The Winter Soldier
by Ash Gray Kitsune
Summary: FrostIronSoldier. After Loki's punishment at the hands of his brother, he's cast down and forgotten, left to die in the frozen wastes of far northern Midgard. Warnings inside, chapters cleaned and freshened up. LokixSteve, LokixTony, TonyxSteve, StevexLokixTony.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier...more later**

**Warnings: Graphic depictions of Loki's torture and starvation at the hands of the Asgardians, Logan's mouth, Remi's mouth.**

**Author's Notes: I'm writing this for, and because of, coldxasxice on tumblr, who plays Loki to my Steve, starsstripesandgarters. Also, for ShadowedHaloedAngel right here on . She's mah lady. :3**

**Summary: Banished to Earth, Loki, battered, beaten, and half-starved, is left to die in the frozen wastes for his treachery in Asgard and Midgard both...**

**The Winter Soldier **

It was the cold that shook him the most. Always, the creeping chill of a dying season, the icy grasp of a dark heart too still to ever beat again. He might have retched, had there been anything in his stomach...Only the excruciating dry heaves came, though, and he knelt there in the snow, coughing up air and spittle for what felt like hours. In reality, he knew that he'd only been in the hellish waste for about a day, if that; Heimdall had tossed him out of the gate into the frozen night, and left him with little more than the rags he wore and a tattered cloak. Even Thor had...He wrenched his heart from that foul place, and tried to forget, for a moment, that he'd ever been...

_Brother._

"No!" Came the ragged gasp, torn from throat and soul, and Loki furiously scraped away the tears with one half-frozen hand, staggering to his feet. He set off at a limping run, determined to put as much distance between the gate's opening and himself as possible, and in the uncertain, fading light of the sunset, it was hard. He'd already bled from his torn lips down the front of his tunic, and it formed a frozen mask on his chin and lips, though most of what had dripped down his neck had broken away with the heaving. It was a garish display, thick, black-red blood staining his pale skin, highlighting the swollen bruises just now starting to soften around his eyes, his throat. Where he to look elsewhere on his body, he knew he'd find the same slowly fading marks, of rope and whip, fist and...far, far worse. At that, he had to pause, had to force himself not to void his stomach again. For all that he had done, yes, he could understand some of the punishment...but...he touched his lips, shakily and tears stung his cheeks, freezing in the growing darkness, and he sobbed, only once, clutching the cloak to his body as closely as he could.

_Damn him...damn him...DAMN HIM!_

...

The sun was just barely setting, setting the New York skyline ablaze with molten orange, and Steve sat back on the couch for a moment, savoring the sight from fifty stories up. The Avengers Tower wasn't the tallest building, by any means, but it was one of the strongest, mounted as it was into the very bedrock of Manhattan Island. Tony had truly spared no expense for both their comfort and their security; while he hadn't made everything an exact replica of each of their preferred home environments, he had taken great care to adjust his normal routines to match those of his new housemates. And while at first, Fury was skeptical...slowly, gradually, the team had grown together.

Thursdays, were a mixture of Movie Night, therapy sessions, and Nerf wars, sprinkled with baking cookies, making drinks, and getting plastered enough to cry on one another's shoulders. Mondays, Steve picked up donuts in the morning, while Tuesdays and Fridays, Coulson held training in the lower levels. Nightly, Tony and Bruce tinkered around their respective labs, and Clint, Darcy, and Natasha would watch old foreign films, bickering all the while in Russian. Steve would settle for drawing all of them, and truthfully, he enjoyed it.

But lately, he'd been finding himself more and more...well...taken advantage of. It seemed as though everyone in and out of the Tower who needed to vent would come to him, and without even so much as a by-your-leave, start talking about their troubles. Normally, he didn't mind; he'd be concerned, even, and offer solutions, sending the other on their way with a smile. As time wore on, though, he increasingly found himself cornered by the others, wasting hours upon hours listening and barely getting a word in, his drawings, his work, and his schedules left by the wayside. As both Captain America, and the Avenger's leader, he had an amazing array of things he absolutely had to do...and he'd started dreading the phone or the sound of a door opening, scuttling away to hide, or fleeing to his motorcycle to ride out into the city.

Today had been no exception; he'd listened to Clint complain about the cooking, Tony about the bots, Bruce about Tony, Pepper about Tony, and Natasha about Thor's Pop Tart addiction. All he wanted was a little peace, a little quiet...and a stiff enough drink to sit up and bark. But, he needed to get the weekly schedule posted to everyone's S.H.I.E.L.D. ID before he slipped out to the bar, and with a tired sigh, he sent the document on its way, rubbing his face with both hands before he froze at the sound of the door opening. The heavy footsteps told him it was Thor, and he wondered, blankly, if he could dash and hide before the big man saw him-

"Friend Steven." Oh, hell. Right. Thor'd gone back to administer the punishment his father had decided to Loki a few days ago...no wonder the Pop Tarts were missing.

"Hi, Thor..." He replied softly, shutting the laptop and shoving it onto the coffee table before he leaned over and patted the chair across from him. Might as well offer it to him; the Asgardian looked like death warmed over and refried. In this much, at least, Steve didn't mind helping; it was his job, after all, and Thor did not usually need much reassurance. But he looked ill, and ill-at-ease, as though the shadows that filled the room were too close for his liking. "Jarvis, can you bring up the lights a little?"

"Certainly, Captain Rogers." The room brightened, just enough to chase the darkness away, and Thor seemed to relax, though his eyes were still wary and unnerved.

"My thanks, Steve..." He started, his voice faltering as he wrung his hands, sitting on the edge of the comfortable chair. "I...a thing has been done. A thing that I think, I should have not allowed to go...to go as far as it did." Steve felt his mouth go dry, and for a moment, he prayed that Loki, terrible though he might be, had not died. He didn't know if Thor could ever have forgiven himself if he did. But his next words stilled the soldier, and filled him with a sickening dread.

"My brother, he...he would not stop fighting! He knew, knew what the Allfather's punishment was, knew what I must do, as both Odinson and warrior...yet he would not stand down! He wouldn't let me...he wouldn't let me reason with him! He had not eaten, had not drunk, had fasted in Odin's dungeons from the time I left to my return!" Thor was shaking now, with tears that would not fall...could not fall. He was too proud, too long a warrior to grieve, and for a scant moment...Steve pitied him. He'd learned early on that grief could be just as powerful a weapon as fear...and often, it gave you more strength for conquering it. But Thor couldn't understand that, not in all the years he'd lived; he hadn't ever been set against his own brother. Not like this.

"We fought, he with his magics, I with my fists, and in the end, his shields and spells could not cleave flesh, couldn't crush bone! I beat him, beat him as though my own life depended upon his fall! I beat my own brother, on my father's orders..." Thor looked as though he were about to burst into tears, but it was Steve feeling sick, his body stiff and frozen in shock as he felt the nausea pass in a wave over him. To admit to such a...barbaric act! Thor might have felt guilt for it now, but what was he feeling then? Steve knew too well the battle highs that the Asgardian tended to get when they were in combat...and ritualistic fighting had to have heightened that to a fever pitch.

Once, Steve might have understood it intellectually; before the Army, he'd seen some of the worst humanity had had to offer, or so he'd believed. Then, he'd gone to Germany. During an assault by the Howling Commandos, Steve Rogers had stumbled upon the true horrors of the second World War, had discovered just what the true evils of the world had to offer. He still woke up fighting from the nightmares; hundreds of thousands of half-clothed, starved bodies, sunken gray eyes and bloated corpses, black stripes, gray stripes, none at all. Women, children, all gassed, men beaten and forced to stand in the blazing heat and freezing rains for hours, whipped if they fell or even faltered. Children, used as experimental toys by mad doctors hell bent on establishing a racial dominance...

And that hadn't left him in seventy years of slumber. He had hoped, had asked that Loki's punishment be swift, but humane; had requested that he be forced to rebuild colonies or something of the nature, using his magic and illusion for good, for the betterment of others. Not in defending himself against his own brother and beaten to a pulp, starved of all things but the worst attention. Thor's voice jarred him from his thoughts, and he listened for a long moment, before his disgust turned to something far darker...something he recognized from long, long ago...

"...aye, and after that, after all that had occured...the Allfather demanded that his magics be stripped of him, and his lips sewn shut for the vile lies he told. The Warriors Three, my faithful friends, and Sif, the strongest of the Einherjar, they held his head and body still, as my mother passed me golden thread, and a steel needle, heated to a white hotness. His cries were...horrible. His eyes screamed, when his voice could no longer, and he tore loose of my friends before I had tied the last stitch. His lips torn asunder, his body wracked with pain, Odin threw him clear to the Bifrost, and there, Heimdall passed final judgment, sending him not to another world, but to here. To Midgard."

_Rage._

His body reacted before his mind could even contemplate his actions, and yet, he felt no remorse as his fist shattered Thor's nose, as his own knuckles cracked against the flesh and bone of an Asgardian Prince. He doubted he ever would, after what he'd heard; no matter how much Thor had loved his brother, no matter how much he'd championed Loki time and again...the fact remained that in the end, rather than outright refusing, as he should have done, he allowed himself to become once more Odin's precious puppet. Before, Steve could understand, could even sympathize with him. But...torture, beatings, starvation? Outright mutilation? Not even Loki deserved that. Especially not from his own brother.

Steve was up and moving fast before Thor even had a chance to cup his nose, his super speed something he rarely used. The soldier paused just long enough to grab his suit and steal away in the smallest of the Quinjets, thankful, at least, that he'd been alone in the Tower for the night. Tony and Bruce were at some Stark Industries convention, Natasha and Clint were out on a mission, and Darcy, Jane, Pepper, and Coulson were all at SHIELD headquarters, probably poring over Jane's research. No doubt, the gate opening twice would have attracted some attention, but given that Thor had returned, he doubted anyone would have been sent out to investigate the first. Besides...no one had used the trackers tuned to Loki's aura in almost a year, since he'd been taken into custody.

He activated his, and waited, patiently flying out of the city as he followed the glowing beacon north. It finally came to a halt over Greenland, and wouldn't be much more precise than that, unfortunately. No matter. He had another, secondary tracker...and this one operated on body heat and movement; two things that would be in scarce supply in the frozen tundra awaiting him.

"Hold on..." He breathed, and if it had all the fervent strength of a prayer...then perhaps a god really would answer.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier**

**Warnings: Graphic depictions of Loki's torture and starvation at the hands of the Asgardians, Logan's mouth, Remi's mouth.**

**Summary: Lost, but not forgotten, Loki is discovered and spirited away by one Captain Rogers, and in spite of the initial lack of trust, discovers that not all are the same...caliber as his brother and adoptive father.**

**The Winter Soldier**

The _whirr_ of the engines somewhere behind him had sent Loki into a tumbling run towards a hidden shelter, built of ice and snow, no matter that he was so numb that running was merely a euphemism for limping, and the sprawl in which he landed on the ice was entirely calculated...in some distant world. For the time being, he was far too busy trying to hide himself away without being noticed, and definitely without further freezing. His body might have been from Jotunheim, but his true form was sealed away still, and even had he the strength, he could not unseal it. And without the protection of a Frost Giant's hide...he shivered furiously, tucking himself against the ice that arched over him.

A few dozen yards away, something landed; it sounded like a Quinjet, and his blood ran a little bit colder. No doubt Thor had returned to the Tower in which the Avengers called home, and told his newest brethren of Loki's punishment and humiliation...boasting all the while, most likely. Probably telling them that Loki had fought back, had challenged him. How could he have, when he'd spent months in starvation, subjected to the cruelty of Odin's guards? He'd been so weary when Thor had drawn him out of the cell that he'd done little more than greet him with a sigh...when the first fist had landed. He'd tried to guard himself, tried to run away, but he was gradually herded to the center of the room, eyes blackened, body covered in roseate bruises that would have broken a mortal's bones.

Then, had come the sliver of Odin-blessed steel, threaded with golden wire...he choked back another sob, shaking as the pain threatened to overwhelm him once more, one thin hand covering the ruins of his lips as emerald eyes closed, tears spilling over. But he must have made some sound, because footsteps scratched against the ice, firm over the eerie howl of the wind. There was a measured tread to those feet, and he sought to beat back both depression and pain to identify it. It wasn't bragging and quick, like Stark, nor was it humble and meek, like Dr. Banner. It held none of the aura he associated with Thor, and was too loud for any of the three agents, silent as they were. No...this was a man he'd faced in Germany, a year ago, a man of honor and dignity, and fierce, quiet courage that spoke volumes.

The soldier. The sleeper. The captain.

"Loki?" His eyes snapped open and Loki pressed himself deeper into the ice, fear making his actions instinctive. His hand still covered his mouth, but did nothing to deter the sight of Captain America, his cowl thrown back to reveal a still-boyish face, blond-brown hair slicked back by wind and snow. His blue eyes, so like the sky of Midgard, were concerned and angry, though the mage sensed that the anger was directed elsewhere..."Thank god. Let's get you out of here." The captain murmured, extending a hand to help his former enemy up. Loki stared at it, then him, then back at it for the longest time, still terrified. But there were no others around him; battered though he might be, his senses were still painfully aware of their surroundings, and there wasn't another living being larger than a fox out here.

And Rogers hadn't retracted his hand, nor his offer, standing there in the icy wind while Loki let the cracked cogs in his brain turn. He showed little discomfort; not surprising, given the serum that made him into the super soldier...but there was a sadness in the set of his eyes, in the thin line of his lips. A grief that Loki didn't understand, but was somehow the cause of. And that plainly puzzled him. For several minutes, he contemplated allowing the Captain to carry him away, weariness and the numbing cold slowly tearing down the fear, and yes, anger that he should be found so weak before this man. He didn't want to give in...but the first kindness he'd been shown in years made up his mind for him.

At last, though, he drew his hand away from his lips, and placed it in the captain's, ignoring how the man's eyes widened, then narrowed at the sight before him. He ducked his head, and slowly, agonizingly stood, telling himself that the arms that slipped around him were just there to make the captain feel better. He wasn't leaning into the warmth, wasn't clinging to the hand that simply held him up, rather than pulling away in disgust. He had to wait while the jet's back gate was lowered, but Rogers helped him inside with the least amount of discomfort, not quite carrying him...just as Loki felt his vision begin to fade, and he sagged against the captain. Rogers strapped him into the co-pilot's seat and settled a pair of headphones over his ears, tucking a thick blanket around his shoulders.

"Hey..." Taking up his own headgear, the captain smiled, just a little, when his voice startled Loki out of his faint. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have startled you. You'll be hearing a few voices over the radio; it's just an old friend of mine who owes me a favor. No Avengers, no Asgardians, no SHIELD agents." Green eyes stared at him, perplexed, as Loki tried to speak, wincing.

"Why? 'M not good...'m bad..." "...You've been punished enough." His words were soft, and the sadness in his eyes seemed to fill the cockpit as he slowly took off, following the winds back around towards the south. "I agree, what you've done is wrong. But...you deserved better. You aren't a bad man, Loki...just a lost one. And once Thor's nose is reset, he'll probably try to find me to settle the score." Loki stared at him, shocked, and Steve outright grinned at him. "Yes, I broke his nose."

" 'Ou 're braver 'an I."

"No, just angrier. He didn't brag, but...he could have refused. He SHOULD have refused."

_"And you're gonna be pissed for a while."_ Loki jerked again, this time at the growling voice sounding in the headphones and Steve chuckled softly.

"Too true, Jim. How's it looking on your end?"

_"Quiet. Haven't heard anything from SHIELD, Xavier, or Stark, nor has the punk heard anything via the grapevine. It's looking like so far that SHIELD's accepting Asgardian justice and ignoring the fact that your passenger even still exists. I'll keep a finger on the web, though, and let you know what's up. Oh, and Loki?"_ This time, the mage didn't jump, but his eyes narrowed just a little as he fumbled with the mic.

" 'Es?"

_"Most of the mutants are on your side."_ He looked...thunderstruck, and Wolverine took that silence as assent, turning his attention back to Steve. "I have a medic standing by here to look him over before we transfer planes. Rogue's got the cabin ready and warm when we get there. Logan, over and out."

"Thanks, Jim. I'll see you at 22:00 hrs." From there, only faint static could be heard, and Loki turned his eyes back to Rogers, looking more than a little lost. Steve gave him a slight grin. "We're gonna pull a fast one over Fury, and hide you away until you're healed and strong again. Wolverine's an old army buddy of mine, and over the last few years, he's helped me out quite a bit for helping him get his memories back. He was the one who went to the Professor and asked him to help mask your presence, when I called him. There's a dummy-Loki being planted as we speak, a projection that will be held indefinitely to keep SHIELD at bay. As for the rest...we'll worry about it when we come to it. For now, you've got allies who know just what you've gone through."

Loki watched him for a long moment, and for the first time in years, bowed his head, eyes closing tiredly.

"...thank 'ou..." He whispered, all the exhaustion finally catching up with him. He sank into a dreamless slumber, the memory of sky blue eyes lighting the moon-dark night.

...

"...He's in bad shape, Steve."

"I know. I'm counting on his strength to hold out long enough to get us to the cabin." Logan huffed out a sigh and nodded, tucking another blanket over the unconcious man before them. If Cap felt that the mage would make it, then he'd believe him...it was just hard to. Loki had slept from the last transmission on, not even waking when they touched down and the medic cleaned up his face and back. His lips were shredded almost to the gumline; a little more, and he'd have had to be a grinning mask all his long life. No stitches held them together; there was no room, for one, and Steve didn't want Loki to freak when he did wake up again. Probably better for everyone that they were bandaged.

As they waited for the plane to be brought out, Steve slipped his hand under the blankets to touch Loki's fingers, gauging his temperature. He'd been freezing cold when they'd left the tundra, and had barely warmed when they set down in the tiny coastal town. Thankfully, the townsfolk were used to operative planes, and barely batted an eyelash when the Quinjet had landed. In a short time, Logan had the jet sent off on auto-pilot and wiped clean, and was now taxi-ing to the runway, prepping for their flight to Nova Scotia's rugged mountains, where they'd settle for the next few months. At least, that was the plan...whether he could pull it off, though, was another thing.

Gambit, their resident cardsharp and bayou pilot, would have to land on the flat stretch of lake just below Logan's 'summer home', and take off the same way, and they'd have to be quick to avoid detection; Steve hoped that Loki would be up for the trek up the mountain. Either Logan or he could carry the emaciated mage, but they wanted him awake and alert, the better to stave off his disorientation. Thankfully, once they were there, they wouldn't have to worry about supplies or the like; Logan kept the place stocked for a two year spell, at all times...

"We're ready, Cap." Remy's soft Southern accent was a comforting counterpoint to the foreign voices around them, and Steve gave him a wan smile. "Is he..."

"He'll be alright. I'll get him loaded up." As the pilot slipped away, Steve laid a hand on Loki's forehead and leaned down, knowing that even if the mage was unconscious, he could probably hear everything. "Loki? I'm going to pick you up and load you on a small plane. I hope you wake up before we get to the place, so that you're not quite so disoriented, but I'll be with you the whole time." He said quietly, pitching his voice lower than usual so that no one else would overhear, and was rewarded with a slight creasing of Loki's forehead. "Alright. Here we go." He slipped his arms under Loki's body and was shocked; the mage was not a small man, and yet he barely weighed more than Natasha. His long, lanky form was hard to manage, at first, without banging him into surrounding plane parts, but he finally got Loki's head on his shoulder and arms around his neck.

It was little more than a minute before the mage was resting on another stretchers, and piling the blankets on him a little more, Steve pulled himself inside and shut the door, motioning to Remy to start the take-off as he buckled himself in, and put one arm over Loki's body, latching on to the other side of the stretcher. "Hold on..." He murmured under the whine of the engines, and felt a slender hand grasp his arm, doing just that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier**

**Warnings: Graphic depictions of Loki's torture and starvation at the hands of the Asgardians, Logan's mouth, Remi's mouth.**

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Summary: Plans change, for the better, when Rogue is alerted that the Professor must close the shield early, trapping all five inside the dome, isolated from the outside world...**

**The Winter Soldier**

The sound of the plane he rode in should have been a terrifying noise, and yet Loki found himself lulled to sleep time and again at the whine of the twin engines. It helped that the three men escorting him to the safehouse they'd set up were quiet, and that the youngest, handsome and cavalier, piloted with the unerring ease of a born airman. Despite what most mortals believed about his adopted race, Loki had, actually, spent a great deal of time on Midgard, during the Industrial Revolution, and while he was no god on this land then...he had been successful, and well-known for his charity towards the urban poor, immigrants like the family of the man whose wrist he now held.

In fact, as he'd warmed, and as his wounds were treated, what little of Loki's conscious mind had taken a dive back into the deepest depths of his vast memory, searching for that man, for Steven Rogers...and he thought he had a clue. There were odd callouses on his hand; a scribe's callous, and it was odd to see on a hand so big and strong, with knuckles broken over so many times they were hard as bone, tendons so scarred they stood out permanently. It was an odd, odd thing...and Loki memorized it, held it fast amid the swirl of bright and dark visions he'd harbored for so long. It wasn't easy, this half-dream spell, but he could do it without relying on his normal magics, and so he used it, knowing that the casting would take days, if not months to gather everything together.

No matter; he would learn what he wished in due time...and the mage was nothing if not patient. Not quite feigning an exhausted sleep, he held onto the captain and let the calm whirr of twin propellers and the cold wind outside lull him deeper into the trance, content, for now, to trust these men. For they were hard, yet not cruel; wise, not blustering, and each had known sorrow. Had known loss as though it clawed at them, every moment of the day. He had read that in first the captain's eyes; later, in the voice of the man called Logan, and in the casual, panther-like tread of the boy.

And in the comradery shared between them. For here was a friendship built upon true trust and understanding and mutual grief, and it was a strength; not a weakness. So different from the men he'd been raised to emulate...Rogers's hand twitched in his grasp, and his eyes fluttered open as he disentangled himself from the spell's grasp, turning to stare into frost-blue eyes.

...

_"Jimmy, he's awake."_ Wolverine glanced back at Steve, smiling faintly as the man watched Loki blink up at him.

_"Probably reacted to you, ya goof. You knew the barrier was going up..."_

_"But I wasn't sure when. So, Marie sent you the message?"_

_"Yup, she's at the cabin now, laying out the dock to the sandbar. Gambit will land us, then once you've got the patient upstairs, you'll have to help me move it into the hanger. I didn't have enough time to put the pontoons on it, so it'll be touch and go over the docking boards. Kid'll guide us."_

_" 'Course I will, petit vieux; you need not turn up your Canadian sensibilities to moi. How is the roi des voleurs faring this fine trip, Capitaine?"_ A quirk of a smile touched Steve's lips as Gambit retorted partially in French, thickening his accent deliberately to annoy Logan, who still had a grudge against them from the Revolutionary War. And the petnames he used...Rogers just shook his head and chalked it up to a smart kid with far, far too much time on his hands. And hopefully, Loki didn't know French.

_"He's still waking up; how far till we land? I want to get some food inside him before we even attempt to move this beast, and he needs to meet Marie before I leave. And don't bandy about those names just yet, kiddo; let's not insult anyone."_

_"Pah, he's the patron saint of thieves, my good Capitaine; he should be so proud as to be called such."_

_"Still, tone it down. You're a big boy; play nice, or Uncle Steve takes away that lovely new stave you were drooling over."_

_"...You're a fine opponent, my dear uncle. Please, allow me to continue our flight._" Remy's voice was thick with sarcasm, and Steve rolled his eyes again, smiling back down at Loki's confused expression. He leaned down, and cupped his free hand to the mage's ear, speaking clearly over the din.

"We're close to where we're landing; we had to close the barrier sooner than expected, so it's left three more people than I planned with us. The cabin is big enough to hold all of us, though, so if you can bear with four socially inept idiots taking care of you, you can do anything!" He grinned a little to soften the remark, and wasn't surprised to see a calm, calculating look in those emerald green eyes. They narrowed just a trifle as he thought it all out, and he beckoned with one hand, removing one earphone long enough to cup long fingers about Steve's ear...and that crisp accent, a little tattered by the bandages on his lips, cut through the noise as easily as the chill winds outside.

"If you will promise me that none shall harm me, then I will concede to the situation. I hold you in high regard, Captain Rogers, though we may be enemies still...do not make me doubt." He replied quietly, hand falling back to touch Steve's wrist again as green eyes darkened a little with impending slumber. Black-framed eyelashes fell shut, and Steve had to shake himself minutely to break free of the spell that had held him, for more than just a moment.

...

Finally, they started in on the downward spiral, and Steve clenched his teeth at the change in angle; he never had liked descents, in planes or otherwise, and Gambit liked to do steep ones, especially in mountainous regions. He clung to the sturdy steel handgrip and sent up a few prayers that he wouldn't die in a little puddle-hopper because of a crazy Cajun. Round and round they went, spiralling down into the heart of the lake James Logan had long ago reclaimed as his own, the high cliffs and bluffs surrounding it a part of his family's land.

Somewhere, tucked in the shadowy pines, was the house he'd built right into the bedrock, ensuring that nothing would destroy it, and up there was his own foundling, watching the skies above them with a pair of military binoculars and sharp eyes, a radio at her hip. Steve rather liked Marie; she was smart, pretty, and had a wicked sense of humor, and didn't take an ounce of crap off of Logan in the least. Or Remy, for that matter. Glancing back at Loki's sleeping face, he wondered if the Asgardian would be able to stand that many people. He didn't seem like the overly friendly sort, and given his past...encounters with Midgardians...

But he had agreed. That had to be something, right?

...

The landing had been more than a little rough, and Steve had found himself with an armload of anxious, unhappy mage, cursing in more languages than the soldier could have believed. As Gambit turned the plane around, Loki finally calmed, glaring daggers at the younger man before turning his imperious gaze on the captain.

"Why in the nine hells is he allowed to fly?!"

"Because you don't want me to. I crash-landed in the Arctic Circle, remember? Ended up becoming a capsicle?"

"...Hmph."

"Well, it's good to see you acting like your old self." Steve sat back a little, pulling the mage with him, and chuckled at the faint squawk somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. "Do you want to walk up to the house, or be carried?" Loki pushed away from him, indignant, and crawled back to his nest of blankets, growling faintly, the bandages on his lips staining a light red. He seemed to notice Steve's attention, and covered them with one hand, green eyes hateful, for just a moment, as he recalled the events that had caused such injuries. The soldier let his eyes fall in mute apology, until his attention was jarred by the sudden sputter of the engine shutting off.

"Alright, my fair friends, we are here! Chez du Logan, yes yes!"

"Remy, shut up with that stupid ass accent before I toss you into the runoff." Gambit rolled his eyes as he stepped out of the twinjet, but conceded a minor defeat and opened Steve's side of the plane, beaming up merrily at the captain.

"My apologies, Cap; how's the passenger?" Steve grinned a little as Loki flipped the other trickster the bird, startling him into a peal of wild laughter. "Ah, forgive me, m'lord. I meant you no insult. Please, will you come this way?" Loki glared at him a moment more, then gave an imperious sniff and unwound himself once more, unfolding his long body into the weak winter sun as he slipped out of the plane. Despite looking like a raccoon, and his normally elegant garments hanging in rags from his shoulders, thick, nasty bruises covering every part of exposed skin, he was as regal as ever. Long black hair, unshorn in a year's time, tangled with the cool winds as it framed those glimmering green eyes, and Steve followed, quiet in the wake of his majesty.

Here, in the near-virgin forest of the North, Loki looked his best, a kingly figure striding down the drydock, though his long legs were clearly shaking and his body swayed in the wind.

"You'd never think that he's dying inside." Logan's voice, as gutteral as the wild creature he was named after, was a quiet undertone to the god's presence, and Steve nodded, his throat tight. Once more, the feeling that he was doing the right thing swelled through his veins, and he had to smile a little. Loki may have been battered, but he wasn't broken; there was too much spirit in him. And for the first time...Steve realized that he was seeing the man that Thor had called brother.

And...he liked what he saw.

**Because my Remy, bless his little black heart, speaks French, and French-Creole (derp, I'm an idiot) with ease. (Taken from Rosetta Stone, don't beat me if they're not quite right. My French-speaking brother-in-law's asleep at the time of this writing.)**  
**petit vieux = little old man**  
**moi = me, myself**  
**roi des voleurs = prince of liars**  
**Capitaine = Captain**


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier**

**Warnings: Graphic depictions of Loki's torture and starvation at the hands of the Asgardians, Logan's mouth, Remi's mouth.**

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Summary: Plans change, for the better, when Rogue is alerted that the Professor must close the shield early, trapping all five inside the dome, isolated from the outside world...**

**The Winter Soldier**

Loki could only hold the facade for so long, and as he drew into the cave that served as Logan's hanger, he sagged into the wall, into the welcome shadows that hid him from the trio outside. _Gods, your pride will kill you yet, Trickster_...He thought, grinning weakly despite himself. It felt...good, to strut like that, even if he did want to fall over for the next millenia and sleep. He pushed off the wall, one hand going to shove the long mass of hair out of his face when he stumbled...and fell into a broad chest, and soft blue eyes caught his gaze.

"Let's get you upstairs, okay? Food's ready." Loki's ears pricked at that, and he managed to bring himself upright again, though he swayed badly.

"Food?"

"Good food. Marie's a hell of a cook."

"And she's gettin' impatient, boyos. C'mon, let's get some grub." Logan pushed between them, hauling one of two lines behind him and handing the other to the captain. Steve grinned a little sheepishly, and motioned for Loki to take the stairs leading up to a warm, welcoming light, and set to hauling the plane in. Loki watched, a little bemused, before turning to follow the sweet odor of soup and fresh bread, hanging onto the stair rail as he made his way up to the next floor. There was a door at the top of the landing, more a hatch than anything. Before he could touch the dial, though, it spun and pulled away, revealing a smiling redhead, almost a full head and a half shorter than he.

"Hello there, darlin'. You're Loki, right? C'mon, let's get your skinny butt fed." She grabbed his unresisting hand and tugged him inside, waiting patiently as the heat swept over him and left the mage dizzy. "You're just skin n' bones, aren't you, honey? Well, we'll fix that, and put some meat on those bones. I told Remy to be careful on the flight down, and what does he do?..." The young woman's soothing voice seemed to wrap him in a state of bemused disbelief, and he let her tug him over to a large wooden table, reminiscent, he thought with a pang, of the same in Odin's hall. But there were no inlays in this, simply timber planks hewed smooth with age and use, and the chairs that ringed it were cushioned with soft fleece, comfortably warped to a more pleasing shape.

He sank into one, and let her words keep flowing over him, eyelids drooping a little as he dozed in the lamplight. This man Logan was clearly a man of means; his cabin, built of stone and wood, was hung with dozens of native blankets, and the bright designs were echoed in both pillows and paintings scattered around the living area. The kitchen was all steel and dark wood, with a handsome counter in dark grey, of a substance he thought might be concrete. Well-worn flagstones covered the floor, mingling with hardwood as the rooms transitioned. There was a staircase across from the dining area, but he was too tired to make out more than wrought iron spindles supporting a mammoth bannister...and when the large bowl of soup, a half-loaf of bread, an apple, cheese and a glass of tea were set before him, he didn't much care.

He tore the loaf into bits, and began soaking them in the soup, taking careful, slow bites before swallowing, rather than gorging himself. Trained though he might be, he was still starved, and still far too likely to throw up every thing he'd ever eaten if he went too fast. The bowl was still half-full when the other three reappeared, and he drank it down slowly, green eyes heavy over the rim as they all took up their meals as well, the captain sitting across from him. In fact, the only thing bothering him now were his wounds, and it was simply the furious _itching_ that occured whenever his natural state of healing was interrupted. Soon enough, he'd be fine, if a little scarred...

"Loki?" Green eyes flashed over to the woman..._Rogue, Marie_, his mind supplied, and he nodded a little to her. "Is the food okay?" Was it okay? Well, it might not have been Asgardian fare, but it was a damn good meal, and he dipped his head in a solemn half-bow, raising his eyes to meet hers.

"It is...a fine meal. You have my thanks...Lady Marie." She colored at the title, but gave him a warm smile, and to his faint delight, it made the man called Gambit narrow his eyes a touch. Steve only smiled, blue eyes dancing, and Logan grinned, leaning over to give the woman a clap on the shoulder, jostling her auburn curls as she turned up her nose to him. A streak of solid white fell across her brow, and she shoved it out of the way, smiling a little at Loki's inquiring gaze.

"A souvenir from an enemy, a long while back...and I'm no lady. Just ask these two rascals..." But her smile remained, and he returned it, feeling a trickle of pleasure at her honest regard slip into the aching void that was his heart. It joined the concern he had felt radiating from Steve, and the steady measuring from Logan...not to mention the outright adoration, taunting though it may be, from Remy...and Loki closed his eyes, drinking it all in. A wizard, a magician, they survived off of the powers around them, the forces of nature, the power created by a single entity..._emotions...thoughts...wishes...dreams._..and Loki was every bit the adept. He kept those emotions close, using their strength to augment his own.

"I see..." He picked up the small knife that had gone with his apple, and began to slowly peel it, taking his time to take the crisp, crimson skin off in a growing spiral, eyes softening as Marie picked up her coffee, and Logan and Remy sat back to lay out a stack of cards. They had stiffened as he picked up the knife, and wary eyes watched him...only Steve, his big hands around a surprisingly small cup of tea, didn't seem concerned.

"...Rest yourselves. I might be an enemy, but I don't spit on those who have helped me. I thank you, Gambit and Wolverine, for flying me here, and providing a safe sanctuary...and to you, again, lady Marie, for such a good dinner."

He slid the knife up through the last of the skin, and laid the spiral on the plate, pausing only to slice it up neatly and pop a piece into his mouth, complimented with a touch of the crisp, sharp chedder that she'd left him.

"And to Captain Rogers, for his undoubtably excellent, though sadly undocumented performance in the beatdown of my estimable, but foolish brother. And his finding of my sorry carcass." His voice took a touch of bitterness now, and he hid behind the long black bangs, finding comfort in the curtain of darkness. Finishing the last of his food, he stood up, far too quickly, and found himself falling...and the shadows he'd been fighting back came crashing in.

...

Remy, faster than either Logan or Steve, was the one who caught the mage...sort of. He'd forgotten that he wasn't much shorter than Wolverine, and the Asgardian had to have been at least six three or four, towering over the Cajun by a good head or more. And despite being little more than half his normal body weight, Loki was built. Wiry, but built.

"A little help, Cap?" He wheezed out, trying to avoid being bent over completely by the limp mage's dead weight, long, filthy black hair filling his mouth and eyes...and the light returned as Loki was scooped up like a doll, resting now on the captain's shoulder, though whether he was in a dead faint or fast asleep, the trickster had yet to decide. Probably a mixture of both; food and heat had that effect on most people suffering from hypothermia and starvation, with a heavy dose of abuse, and Loki was no different. Well, perhaps a little; he had enough strength to walk, at least, short-lived though it may have been, and he had eaten, all but licking the bowl and plate clean. The crimson peel was all that was left; he suspected it hadn't been eaten not because of pickiness, but because it required more than he was willing to endure in pain from his mangled lips.

Speaking of which, the bandages were dyed red now, and a tiny trickle started down his pale chin, dropping into the nasty darkness that were his rags. But he still looked so strong, even in slumber; small wonder he'd managed to try and take over. _Silvertongue, Liesmith_...Remy knew all the names by which his patron god had been called over the millenia, and he had done his best over his short life to imitate them, figuring that the God of Tricksters and Thieves wouldn't mind a little flattery. But seeing that same ethereal being resting in the arms of a former 'kid from Brooklyn' had a way of changing all of that...for the better, he thought.

_He might be nothing more than a monster to his people, but he's a power among ours. And he alone knows this. Thor thinks of us as puny mortals...Loki knows how dangerous our slim mortality makes us..._

"-get him in the tub, if you can help me clean up his hair, Marie..." Steve's voice broke his musings, and he gestured for Rogue to join the good captain in his endeavor to get Loki cleaned up.

"You both get him taken care of; I'll do the dishes." Logan stared at him, likely trying to figure out if Gambit would witch the Melamine to explode...again. "It was just the one time, and Cyclops deserved it." He growled, eyes darkening a little. Logan rolled his eyes, but sighed, running a hand through his wild hair.

"Just make sure we don't all die from soap poisoning or some crap like that. I'm going to fix up the bedrooms, since we're all stuck here." Gambit made a face at him, but turned to his task, wishing he hadn't asked for barbeque chicken after all.

...

"I stole the master suite for him; figured we could share the other two baths without an issue, but he needs his privacy if he's ever going to get better." And trust us. Her last words were unspoken, but Steve heard them all the same, and he was thankful for her discretion. He hadn't been sure exactly who Jimmy called when he'd contacted the mutant, but he was glad for the pair now sharing the cabin with him and his guest of honor. Rogue, young though she was, was more than bright enough, and kind enough, to remain absolutely honest with the Asgardian. She promised nothing, but gave her all, and no doubt the meal she'd presented him, something that might have come out of the pages of lore, had weighed heavily on his decision to thank her twice.

Then there was Gambit, and Lord, Steve suspected that two tricksters, one whom was openly affiliated with the other religiously, were going to make him gray before the serum wore out. A pair of rois des voleurs would drive him absolutely bonkers...and yet...that didn't bother him. Much, at least. Gambit had long needed someone to keep him in check, and yes, teach him a lesson...and Loki needed the hero worship in the cardsharp's eyes more than he'd ever admit. There was so much that the two of them could learn from one another...and likely, it'd destroy a continent somewhere. Maybe he'd get lucky and it'd just decimate a little, unpopulated island or ice floe.

Probably not.

But with Logan around, at least he could hide out in the smokeshack or the barn for a bit, and let the older man talk horses and trees with him, things that Steve had never known growing up. Or, barring that, the pair of immortals could sit around and slowly plow through a few hundred shots, sobering up before they could ever fully lose themselves, remembering their pasts. His mind shot back to the present as the sound of the faucets turning on echoed from the tile, and Steve laid Loki on the floor, wincing a little in sympathy as the clothing he wore fell away at the slightest tug.

But it made the job easier, and he lifted the mage into the steaming bathtub, making sure that Marie had his head before he fetched soap, a few washcloths, and a pair of large shampoo and conditioner bottles, handing them to Rogue before he set to pulling the bandages off of the unconscious Loki. The ones on his back were tough, but a little soaking eased them away without pulling off new skin, and to his surprise, there really _was_ new skin growing, filling in the whipmarks and burns, healing cleanly, if a little bit scarred. The bruises were fading too, easing from uneasy black and purple to healing green, though it gave his pale skin a jaundiced look.

Still, the hardest part was to come, and like his back, Steve damped down the bloody bandages covering his lips and carefully, gently peeled them away, closing his eyes to the soft gasp from Rogue. It had to be done, and to his credit, he didn't immediately feel ill as he studied the torn flesh. It was in the same state as Loki's back, and taking the softest of the cloths, he dabbed away the blood, concentrating on keeping even the most fragile portion of his mouth unbroken. When at last he could pull away, back aching from leaning over, he was happy to see that the suture marks were fading, and the muscle and tissue was closing over them neatly. Pink, newly raw skin stretched over the healing sinews, and not a touch of infection marred the process.

"Alright then...I think we can wash his hair and the rest of him without worrying." He murmured, nodding to her. He held Loki's head above the water while she filled a deep basin with hot water, and wheeled it over to the side of the tub, taking his mass of long hair and dipping it in, then replaced her leather gloves with nitrile. He gave her an encouraging smile, and she grinned back, setting to the hard work of washing out a year's worth of dirt and grease while Steve ran a soapy rag over Loki's body, scrubbing gently at the grime. They drained and refilled both tubs twice before they were satisfied, and as Rogue pulled the smaller tub away and went for a large blanket, Steve drained the large one, and smoothed a hand over Loki's brow, smiling a little as the mage's eyebrows knitted, unused to the action.

"I'm sorry it took us so long...but sleep, Loki; we'll guard the night."

**A/N: -flops- This chapter...was a bitch to write. But it was sooooooooooo worth it. So worth it. I know it's going slow, guys, with a lot of details, but the pace will be picking up in just a bit. I wanted to really give Loki and Steve a chance to ground themselves in the story...and not just make it a fluffy fest like all my others. Not that that's bad...but I need to grow as a writer.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier**

**Warnings: Graphic depictions of Loki's torture and starvation at the hands of the Asgardians, Logan's mouth, Remi's mouth.**

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Summary:** **A long, harrowing month has passed them by, and the four Midgardians are beginning to get an inkling as to why Loki is so...Loki.**

**The Winter Soldier**

Steve yawned a little as he shuffled into the kitchen, setting the coffeepot on and glad that the rule was to always leave a fresh filter and grounds in the strainer. He was so bleary in the mornings without his caffeine that he spilled the brown granules all over the counters and floor if he had to do it himself...he took an appreciative sniff, and grinned a little. Ah, the perk of having an extraterrestrial mage on the premises. Loki must have pulled the short straw while he was out splitting logs, and had opted for importing his favorite Colombian mix in, rather than use Logan's standard Folgers. He leaned back against the smooth concrete counter and rubbed his eyes, peering out at the softly glowing snow.

It was his turn to go outside this morning, just as the moon fell and before the sun rose, to take a gander at the powerful shield that protected them from all interference from the outside world. Once placed, Charles Xavier could sit back and relax, but there were those who could break it, and if they were found by SHIELD...well, Steve would fight, but he still wanted Loki to take it easy. Four long, rough weeks of care had resulted in a quiet, arrogant man who was well-mannered, but more than a bit of an ass to everyone else in the house. The only living things he didn't outright disdain were the three cats, much to Steve's amusement, and Rogue, who went out of her way to ask him how to make many of the dishes he preferred, earning his eternal kindness towards her.

And since this was northern country, he often could find what he needed, from fresh fish to fungi. He'd led them on such a hunt just the other day, looking for wild herbs that were preserved under the cool layer of snow that capped much of the forest around them. He looked rather dashing in a long green cloak and sturdy leathers, much more so than the others in their flannels and fleece jackets...but it was his attitude that really caught their attention. In the span of an hour, he went from ruler to teacher, patient and calmly explaining everything he knew, even admitting when he didn't know something.

The other Avengers would have found that unnerving; Clint especially, and while Steve couldn't quite blame them...he also had spent much more time with the man who'd fought them first as a team than anyone else. Even Thor...and that was something that cost Loki to admit, and Steve knew it. It was...comforting to know that Loki trusted him; even moreso when he realized just how far that trust fell. Loki would look to him, above all the others, when they discussed outing themselves to SHIELD...and would listen to him, over all the others, when he had something to say.

His opinions, his thoughts, his dreams...they all were something the mage wanted to hear...and it wasn't simply pity, or worse, an strategic move...or at least, that's what Steve believed. If you believe...your faith will give you the strength. His mother had always told him that, knowing that she wouldn't live to see her boy reach manhood, but striving all the way. Well...he believed in Loki. Whether or not that was wise, though, that he didn't care. What mattered was that he believed; and having placed his faith in the man, it would not be shaken lightly. As if his thoughts had called him to the room, Loki slipped in, his hair, now long and sleek and braided neatly back, and treated himself to a cup of aromatic coffee before Steve could even blink.

"Woolgathering is for the foolish, Captain...I did not think you to be such." He chuckled and filled his own cup, raising it in a toast to the tall man before him, resting against the kitchen island, green eyes glimmering with secrets.

"Too true, Loki...so, what brings you out of bed so early? I didn't think the cats were quite so alert this time of day." He took the blow with a smirk and a slow wink, and sipped his coffee, absently toying with the end of his braid. It was a little distracting, Steve had to admit.

"Well, I had heard you moving about, and dreams eluded me one too many times this night, so I decided to join you in watching the good Professor's shield. Do you have any reason why I shouldn't?" Steve just smiled at him.

"Not in the least. I'd rather a little company, anyway; I'm not used to this much wilderness, even after being encased in ice for so long." Loki's eyes softened, and with them, his lips, a true, quiet smile easing all the lines in his face. He was a handsome, handsome man; deny it all Thor might, but his adopted brother was every inch as attractive, if not more, as the golden-haired god. But it was when he smiled like this, a quirk of the lips full of gentle humor and understanding, that made Steve's heart quicken that tiny little bit.

"I can imagine..." His words were barely a whisper, and he took a drink and peered into his coffee before he continued. "Whereas I was raised in a forest not much older than this, taught to fight, to live, to thrive in all weathers, in an endless sea of pines and snow. This..." He motioned out the large picture window in the living, going to stand in front of it. Steve followed, curious in spite of himself. "This is the legacy of Asgard, passed down to Midgard long, long ago. Yggdrisil's roots run deep through this world, and many a time in my youth, I visited these northern reaches. I was comfortable here; safe, as no other place could make me feel.

"Here, you picked the best place to hide me...and the best place for me to heal. There is magic still left in your world, though many think it gone..."

"All I could think about was getting you to safety; all the credit for this place goes to Logan. I don't doubt part of his decision was location, but he's always been fond of the folklore here, too. Even if he can't pronounce most of the names...perhaps he knew that, or guessed it." Loki nodded, and chuckled a little, casting his eyes over at the soldier. He was dressed in a simple tank top and pajama bottoms; the same that Steve wore, but Loki's were black and green, and the soldier's blue and white.

"We seem to be a study in contrasts, Captain." Steve grinned a little up at him and raised his cup again, earning himself a true toast this time over the clink of the ceramic coming together.

"That we are...and yet, we have more in common with one another than many other such figures." Loki simply smiled.

"Indeed...shall we venture into the darkness? Best to find out just what we must needs see before the winds pick up again." Steve nodded, and after soaking their cups in the sink, made their way over to the mudroom, pulling on boots, jackets, and in Loki's case, his great-cloak, before slipping out the door. "Hold just a moment, Captain..." Loki touched his elbow and turned Steve to face him, one long hand curling into a complicated gesture before snapping open, and a wash of heat sank through his clothing, wrapping around him and warding off the wind, his eyes closing as he relaxed. He opened them to find Loki smiling widely, looking almost gleeful.

"That spell's never really worked before..." He replied to Steve's confused face, and he grinned again, repeating the gesture for himself. "I've used it numerous times, but it only lasted for a moment or more, not acting as an active barrier."

"Well, it's doing great right now...shall we?" Loki gestured grandly for Steve to lead, and they set off, crunching through the snow, though their heat-shields were making quick work of melting a path. In fact, the only time Steve had a problem was when he brushed under a low-hanging branch...and got an icy, melting blob of snow down his back as punishment. The yelp alone would have given them away, but Loki's gasping laughter filled the forest, and despite wiggling like a cat on a hot tin roof to get it all out of his shirt, Steve was grinning the whole time. As they set off once again, Loki's snorts kept breaking the silence, and neither of them could keep a smile off their faces by the time they reached the high, bare bluff where the best vantage point of the shield's pinnacle was.

Steve reached into his pocket for the binoculars...only to discover that someone had made off with them. Probably Remy, and he groaned a little. It wasn't a terribly long hike back...but he didn't want to make the journey twice more just to get a pair of eyes...

"Looking for something?" Loki held out the exact pair he'd brought with him, still glowing a little from wherever the mage had summoned them from, and Steve grinned a little.

"Thank you. I suspect your disciple decided to make off with them rather than find his own."

"That would be because Wolverine has his, and Rogue Wolverine's."

"And where might Rogue's be?"

"Lost in that chaos the boy calls a room, which is why she confiscated Logan's pair." Steve chuckled and put the instrument to his eyes, searching out the apex.

"Well, at least I have mine back now. What do you think of the shield, by the way? I've been meaning to ask your opinion on it, but Gambit's prank with the garlic last night totally blew it out of my head."

"Yes, well, vampiric though I may look, he should have realized that Frost Giants positively adore garlic. As for the shield, I must say that I am suitably impressed; your Professor is a man of powerful mental talents, nearly on par with my own. My only regret is that he cannot tap the same resources as I; otherwise, he might well surpass me." Steve stole a glance at him, and Loki nodded, reading the astonishment there. "I do not make that judgement lightly. He is full of power, and yet also full of compassion; smart and wise, two very, very different things. He is also loving, and that, as any mage would tell you, accounts for far more of his success than anything else."

The mage grew quiet now, though the words kept coming, and Steve left off his examination of the shield to watch him, captivated. "We are taught, we magic-users of Asgard, that our power is born of love, and withers in hate. Anger can feed it, but grief will smother. And cheerful disregard of life and limb will warp it into something far more deadly than it ever was before. I was nearly to that point...I'd hated for so long, and so much, that the magic inside me was beginning to twist into something that would have not only destroyed myself, but the whole of New York as well.

"That is why I surrendered." The wind blew around them, masking Loki's eyes behind darkness and the whisps of his bangs, though it still couldn't quite steal away those words. "I gave in and let you condemn me to punishment, not because of arrogance or deceit...but because I was frightened of what I was about to become. Because in the moments of watching all of you work together, and become a team...I realized that I was becoming the monster I saw in your eyes. And I was afraid...so very, very afraid." The sun was rising now, a soft gray light driving back the darkness, and it seemed that Loki took strength in it, and turned blazing green eyes on Steve.

"And for that, I am truly, truly sorry. For the deaths I have caused, the pain I have dealt...I regret, and will feel the remorse till the end of Ragnarok." There was truth there in those eyes, and Steve nodded, slowly, moving forward to stand before the Asgardian.

"I believe you, Loki...but moreso...I forgive you." The words to strike Loki like blows, and the mage's face crumpled, suddenly, hot tears pouring down his cheeks as he clearly struggled to stay upright...and it was Steve who pulled him close, giving him a broad shoulder to lean against as the final barriers began to crack. Loki didn't sob, didn't beat his chest and wail...but he did cry, for over the next few hours, Steve's jacket drew damp and a little uncomfortable, but that couldn't dislodge the gentle smile on his face. Gradually, the mage began to pull away, and the soldier produced a slightly wrinkled hankerchief from his pocket, turning away a little to give the man a touch of privacy to blow his nose and wipe his eyes. A soft, shaky laugh made him glance back, and Loki's tired smirk melted into a smile.

"It's astonishing, the words you need to hear..." He murmured, echoing Steve's swift grin, and the soldier pulled the mage into a one-armed hug, squeezing him for a moment.

"It always is. How does breakfast sound?" Loki chuckled and motioned for him to once more lead the way.

"Fantastic...as long as you're the one who cooks. I shudder to think of Logan's 'omelettes' once more." Steve's laughter followed them both back to the cabin.

**A/N: Another long 'un! I'd also like to take a moment and thank my reviewers, since my PM system is acting up!**

**legend of katie, Byvenic, Sakurabankai, Paradox-Imagination, GothChiq80, yogg, kaszz-chan, DaiKuro-chan, lil-Wolf-girl-1994, fan girl 666, Scioneeris, and Turk Princess, as well as my first unnamed guest, thank you! Every compliment and suggestion is greatly appreciated, and the history lesson was a godsend! My deepest thanks again, and I'll see you in Chapter 6!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier**

**Warnings: Graphic depictions of Loki's torture and starvation at the hands of the Asgardians, Logan's mouth, Remi's mouth.**

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Summary: A long, harrowing month has passed them by, and the four Midgardians are beginning to get an inkling as to why Loki is so...Loki.**

**The Winter Soldier**

Returning to the cabin wasn't as hard as Steve had half-feared; morning's light made the snow shimmer under the dark canopy, and their path up was rather clear, still, the heat-shields only now beginning to waver as the winds resumed their fierce bite. Loki shielded the door with his cloak as Steve got it open, and they both piled inside, scent of burning cedar filling the air as a fully-dressed Wolverine waved from the kitchen. He'd lit both the wood-burning stoves, and their heat filled the living room enough that even with their gear off, both Loki and Steve were comfortable still in their pajamas. The mage was the first to make his way into the kitchen, and sniffed slightly, more than a little wary.

"You are not attempting eggs again, I trust?" His rich voice ringing a little with accusation, and Logan grinned at him, flicking a bit of bacon grease at the mage, who flinched back, eyes growing irritated.

"I ain't cookin' omelettes, pretty boy; just sausages and bacon. There's flapjacks to be made, though, and I know damn good and well that Marie taught you how to make them. So get crackin', fairy." He replied, smacking Loki on the ass for good measure. The look on his face made Steve crack up laughing, and when the mage turned those same outraged eyes on him, he fell to the floor in hysterics, cackling all the while.

"I am an all-powerful god, and you would...use me so. Well then, my dear gentlemen...enjoy your new wardrobes." With a snap of his fingers, Logan's clothing was transfigured into a dainty maid's dress, complete with frills, ruffles, and an apron, the short skirts showing off impressively hairy legs clad in hosiery, tucked into cute little mary janes. The whole ensemble was topped by a big fat white bow, perched inbetween the spikes in his hair. As the older man looked down at himself in horror, Steve made the mistake of doing the same...and nearly jumped out of his skin, frantically looking around for something, ANYTHING to cover himself up with.

He was wearing a little slip of a nightie, and lacy panties below, and as he dove for Loki's cloak, tugging the folds over him, he felt himself go crimson by the way the Asgardian was watching him, tongue flicking out over scarred lips, and green eyes narrowed in speculation. He huddled in the mass of green fabric, and felt his eyes go wider when the sounds of a bitchy Gambit floated down the stairs.

"Loki...please change my clothes back."

"Not your friend's? Come now, Captain, I had higher expectations of you."

"Wolverine still has all his...um...his bits covered. I don't!" A smirk crossed the mage's face and he stepped over to him, leaning in to whisper in Steve's ear.

"But perhaps I like seeing you this way, hmm?" The soldier flushed again, his eyes falling to the middle of Loki's chest, and he shivered as the taller man chuckled dryly. "I've had my fun, Captain...you're safe to drop my cloak now." As Steve pulled the wool away, he was, indeed, back in his normal pjs, though his shirt was fairly pink from how red his chest and face were. Wolverine, however, was still trapped in the maid's outfit...and as Gambit came down the stairs, Logan tried to make a flying leap at Loki, his claws extended...and his skirts flying up, giving the young trickster a perfect view...and the newfound knowledge that his superior went commando.

_"SWEET BLOODY JESUS, CANADA, PUT SOME FUCKIN' SKIVVIES ON!"_

...

Several hours later, with the floor patched, Wolverine outside chain-smoking, and everyone else nursing a glass of scotch, Remy pointed to Loki.

"I don't care what you do to him...but for the love of you, put some goddamn underwear on him. I did not need to wake up this morning and be greeted by the fuzzy elephant that he calls his genitals." Steve snorted some of his liquor, and wheezed a little at the burning pain in his sinuses, while Loki simply sat there, serene as could be, his legs crossed and sipping a small cup of tea, the plate almost dwarved in his long hands. Marie sat a little away, rubbing her eyes, and the mage nodded to her apologetically.

"For the record, I found it to be hilarious, but I do promise next time to provide him appropriate undergarments the next time I change his clothing choices for him. Do we have a deal?" Gambit leaned forward and shook Loki's proffered hand, and sat back to groan a little, though his lips did quirk up.

"I've got to admit, you certainly livened up today...but alas, we all have jobs to do, and half the day's gone to waste." Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

"Since when have you cared about wasting daylight? I've seen you drag your sorry carcass out of bed at four pm, then demand breakfast."

"I was a night owl then."

"You were a sneak, is what you were. But you are right; Marie, dear, if you can take care of a decent dinner, since Logan's like to poison us all if he does, I'll do laundry, Gambit can go sweep the snow off the porch, and Loki can clean the griddle, since it's been left a greasy mess." The mage gave him a raised eyebrow, but did as was suggested, rolling up the sleeves of the silk shirt he'd donned after Wolverine had departed outside to split more firewood. As he and Rogue fixed up a hot meal and did the dishes, Steve began gathering up all the clothing and bedding in need of washing, wrinkling his nose a little when he came to Remy's room.

He made that trip as quickly as possible, and the trickster's clothes were the first item in the washer, before he headed back upstairs. There were six bedrooms in the house; five on the second floor, and an accessible one on the first, made up for Charles on his rare visits. The ones upstairs ringed the staircase neatly, each one opening to the landing, with two extra doors opening to a linen closet and the second guest bathroom. The suite was on the farthest part of the landing, opening to the northern skies, and a spectacular view.

Loki had remained in here as he healed, with Steve just a room away, and as the soldier stepped into the darkened room, he couldn't quite suppress the shiver that it gave him. Not of fear, no...it had more to do with the way he'd reacted this morning, and over the past month, and while he was afraid of where it might lead...he was far more worried about how it would effect him, and the friendship that had grown between himself and the mage below. He couldn't deny it to himself, up there in the soft shadows, as he took apart the sheets and comforters and remade the bed...and he wondered if perhaps _he_ felt the same way.

...

Unlike Thor, Loki rather enjoyed getting down and dirty on manual labor; it kept him grounded, and really, he'd learned so much from the Midgardians that he felt he could honestly survive anywhere now without needing the help of others, or even his magic. It would be difficult, but...he could do it. Which was far more than could be said about Thor. In any case, in a short while, he had all but the pans Marie was using to make up fried chicken, green bean casserole, and mac n' cheese cleaned and put away, and was currently cutting up a bowl of freshly chilled cherry Jello. The rim was still icy from where his slowly warming hands had gone totally blue, freezing the sweet treat in a fraction of the time.

"I'm glad to see that you can make use of your powers, you know..." Came her quiet voice, and Loki cocked his head a little, looking rather like one of Odin's ravens as he did so.

"Why is that? Have you not powers you can use as well?" She smiled a little, but her eyes darkened, and she held up one gloved hand...and Loki realized, belatedly, that he'd never, ever seen her without her gloves on, even after a shower; she'd come out in her robe, and barefoot, but always wearing gloves.

"I'm...well, there's a word for it, but I always forget. I can take the lifeforce...or power, of another, just by touch. Any contact with any part of my skin, and just like that-" she snapped her fingers, "-you fall down and start seizing. Logan and Magneto found that out the hard way." Her voice had grown bitter at that, and she pulled the band of white in her hair down, staring at it in a way that Loki found quite disconcerting. He might have asked how, but one of the principals in her story had just slammed the door shut, and quicker than a shadow, he'd disappeared to the upstairs, hiding a little just outside his room.

No, he certainly was not avoiding the Wolverine...he simply didn't feel like having to explain himself. Again. He sighed a little, and opened the door, slipping inside and locking it before he realized that he wasn't alone...and that the person who'd been here before he was looked like a deer in the headlights. Loki flipped on the overhead lamp, and felt a smile tug at his lips as Steve Rogers stood there, holding a spare comforter up like his shield.

"...Hi." He said softly, peeking out from behind gray and green flannel.

"Hello there. Get a little carried away, Captain?" Loki gestured to the stripped bedding, crossing his arms in a mock-stern pose, though his eyes were glittering with more than a little laughter. "No matter, I do thank you."

"...No problem." _He's rather adorable. Damn._ Loki stepped back and let the captain finish with the bed, hiding a smile with one hand as he leaned against the doorway. Half-blocking it, he knew he presented a conundrum for the captain as he gathered up all the bedding in a large pile, and as Steve tried to brush past him without disturbing the mage, one long, pale hand caught his bicep, and Loki leaned in, his eyes focused on the windows, but his voice for Steve's ears alone.

"If you desire something, Steven...you will do yourself no favors by not seeking it out. I'll be quite alone, I suspect, tonight." With that, he released the soldier and stepped into the room, shutting the door not unkindly on the captain's back. Fingers playing across the scars that now dappled his lips, Loki felt a wicked, knowing smile cross them, and welcomed the faint distraction of one of the three cats he'd adopted, crooning a little to the tabby.

"Perhaps he'll take the hints...perhaps too, he'll act upon them."


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier**

**Warnings: Graphic depictions of Loki's torture and starvation at the hands of the Asgardians, Logan's mouth, Remi's mouth.**

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Summary: Memories mingle with a definite hint of deja vu for Steve, while Loki contemplates whether he ought to tell all he knows...**

**The Winter Soldier**

The snow had begun to blow up again, and Loki sighed, twirling his long hair in one hand as he stared out over the setting sun from his room. His apologies three weeks ago not withstanding, Logan had gone out of his way to ignore the mage, spending most of his time either outside feeding and caring for their small coop of chickens or splitting firewood. For his part, Loki had become all but invisible; he would help in the kitchen, usually with Gambit or Rogue, and he kept the house clean with Steve, but otherwise, he tended to avoid even the faintest hint of confrontation.

And...it made him feel even more lonely than he had before. Before, with Thanos controlling him, and the Chitauri just waiting for him to fall...he hadn't had the time nor the pleasure to invest in anyone other than himself emotionally. And now...now he was falling for the only real friend he had. Rogue loved listening to him, and Gambit adored his pranks, but Steve...He covered his lips with one hand and closed those glowing green eyes. It had taken the better part of almost two months, but he had, at last, discovered where he knew the eternally young Captain from in his long memory.

He had been one of the Senator's aides, sitting there down in that secret lab underneath a Brooklyn street shop, watching the slender young man take his place in the annuls of mortal history...had stumbled down the stairs, same as the rest, green eyes shining at the beauty and magnificence of human endurance. He had watched, awed, as Steven Rogers, rejected by the Army and everywhere else, was transformed into the ultimate super soldier...and a damned good looking one at that. But then, the explosion, and Dr. Erskine's death...and he had been carried away by his then boss, never to see the Captain again...Until that night in Germany, when the very first blow to his head had begun to knock some sense into him.

Loki personally credited the captain with his release from Thanos' control; without his persistance...he never would have surrendered. And now...dammit. I would surrender to him any time, any way. I want him...I want his smile, his touch, his heart. And I daren't even ask it of him. He has done enough for a wretch the like of I... He swallowed the lump in his throat with difficulty, and wished, devoutly, that he hadn't been so damned...plain with his intentions. Now, he'd scared off the only mate his soul had ever craved...

"Loki?" He startled, suddenly, and half-turned from the window, eyes wide as they tried to focus on Steve's light-limned figure in the doorway. The normal darkness that filled his room seemed to fade back a little, and he felt a smile rise, unbidden. The captain had a way of making everyone feel that way, he knew that...but he didn't want to stop the quiet pleasure it gave him.

"Yes, Captain?" He called softly, one hand wrapping around his own waist as he twirled another twist of raven-black hair, lowering his eyelids a little to dim the brilliance of his eyes to smoky emerald. He was dressed in his usual blue plaid shirt and khakis, bright red socks peeking out from beneath his cuffs. His heart leapt a little as Steve faltered, a shy smile touching that boyishly-handsome face, and he turned all the way, walking softly in his woolen socks across the warm wood floor. "Did you need me?" Blue eyes widened a little, and Loki's smile grew a fraction.

"...I wanted to know if you wanted, um...wanted to have dinner? Up...up here?" He murmured, wringing his hands behind his back. The mage blinked, then beamed.

"Absolutely. Ah...would you like me to go get the food...?"

"No, no, I've, um, I've got everything right here..." He moved away from the door to reveal a small table, piled with a large, covered platter. Loki's eyes softened and he let Steve in, going over to the two armchairs and pulling them around, with enough space between for the little table. As the soldier shut the door, Loki also opened a small case on his shelf, and with a whisper of a spell, drew out a cold glass of wine and a pair of frosted glasses.

"Neither of us can really drink to excess, but a fine wine makes a dinner that much better, no?" He said, wine glasses dangling from his fingers as he made his way back over to the super soldier. Steve had grinned a little at that, some of his nervousness fading as he swept the cover off with a flourish. Loki raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk touching his lips as they both sat down. "Finger foods, Captain? A little tempting, aren't we?" Steve grinned again, and stole a small grape from the platter, popping it in his mouth.

"Well...a while ago, someone told me that if I wanted something, I was doing myself no favors by not seeking it out. I'm just acting on that advice." The smile Loki gave him lit up his whole world.

...

Dinner was a long, languid affair, and the mage delighted in making Steve blush at every opportunity, up to and including licking his fingers clean in a way that would be banned in several countries. The soldier, though, for his part, would 'unintentionally' pretend to not know how to eat something, and ask Loki for help...and oh, how the mage's eyes lit when his fingertips were lipped like that. Eventually, though, they were sitting side by side, wine glasses in hand, most of the bottle finished, the lights turned off as they watched the auroras play across the night sky.

"Did you have those up there, in Asgard?" Steve asked quietly, his head turning to face Loki's. The mage smiled a little and he took a gulp of wine, mulling it over for a moment before he leaned in to face the soldier as well.

"I'll answer your question with one of my own; have you heard of the Bifrost?" Blue eyes crinkled in thought for a moment, before the soldier nodded.

"That's the road of rainbow light that connects each of the worlds?" Loki smiled and reached over, fingers dancing over Steve's chin, eyes soft and happy.

"That it is. The auroras that dance in the skies of Earth are slender reflections of the Bifrost's path...But they are no less beautiful. We do have our own, but they are no less grand than these...and in truth, there is a wonder still among your people here when they appear. Something that mine has, sadly, forgotten..." He took a long swallow of wine, eyes shadowed, before he continued. "I wonder at that sometimes, but perhaps that is why I began taking refuge in your world, long before I ever tried to rule it." Steve blinked, and cocked his head a little to the side, turning his upper body now to face the mage.

"You...came here before New Mexico?" Loki grinned, then laughed a little.

"My dear Captain, where do you think those myths came from? My adopted family and I figured prominently in Midgard's founding history, for it was through our intervention that a great many of the world's successes were gained...but I must admit, despite a bit a slow start, your race has come to nearly rival our own in size and strength. Perhaps your powers are limited, your technologies not so advanced...but then again, we had the benefit of many, many millenia before you." He softened the rebuke with a warm smile. "In fact, though Odin and his sons have not quite taken my advice on the matter, they have begun to learn a little respect for the human race. I..."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I was a fool. A young, arrogant, dangerous fool...and I so wanted to make my brother pay for his uncaring as a child. And while yes, I made a better man of him...gods, did I make a mess of myself." A large, calloused hand covered his, and Loki found himself staring...falling into eyes of a wild, ocean blue. Steve was speaking, and Loki pulled his attention back with difficulty.

"...good man. You know, what with Christmas tomorrow..."

"Christmas? As in Yule?"

"Mmhmm. Why, is that something you celebrate?" Loki looked a little confused.

"Don't you?" Steve's eyes fell a little, and he began to draw his hand away; Loki let him go, a little unnerved by the bad reaction. He was used to most people enjoying the Yule season...

"...I never really had a Christmas until just last year. And it was...a lonely one. Most of us feel pretty melancholy around the holidays; and that's not just the Avengers. Almost everyone I know, from mutant to superhero to agent to experiment, gets depressed and unhappy. It's just...a prevailing attitude." Loki stared, more than a little upset now, and he finished off his wine, slowly.

"What if that were to change?" Steve had to strain to hear him, the mage's voice was so soft.

"What if what were to change?"

"Christmas. Yule. The holiday season. What if your feelings were to change?" Green eyes, hiding secrets behind them, met his again, and Steve gave Loki a weak smile.

"Then I'd say that whoever changed 'em's a hero of a different sort." Loki smiled wickedly at that, and standing, he pulled the captain into a firm, fierce embrace...ending with a swift kiss on his lips before propelling him out the door.

"Off with you before I do something the others will regret! I've a surprise to plan." He replied as he shut the door on Steve's confused face, locking it quickly before the soldier could try and get back in. He had a very, very long night ahead of him.

...

It took until there was a glimmer of sunshine peeking through the mountains, but at last, Loki's secret surprise was complete. Pinecone-heavy boughs curved across the timbered walls, while magically frosted ivy twined around the staircase's bannister and spindles, and little hallmarks, stolen from the dreams of the four above, peeked around photos and books. Some were angels; Remy had rather surprised him with those, though Steve not so much. Some were antique ornaments and delicate instruments; courtesy of Logan, chasing at the long-lost memories of his father and mother. Marie's were almost all in regards to the massive tree; it fairly bristled with handmade ornaments and popcorn strings, with a massive strand of ruby-red dried cranberries adding to the spiciness of the air.

Cinnamon popped in the hearth and both stoves, and a truly enormous pile of presents spilled from under the tree, so many that no one could see the old skirt, emblazoned as it was with Nordic symbology, a relic of Loki's own past. Magic had formed nearly everything in here, or transported it from places where items were languishing in the cold darkness, while a powerful, rarely performed spell kept everyone in a dreamless, restful sleep. He didn't use it but once in a blue moon; partly because of the complexity, and partly because he had to be within range of it at all times. So, he'd let the magic work and baked ordinary gingerbread cookies, a few pies, and set a pot roast on to slow cook through the night.

As for the rest, he occupied himself with little touches, making coffee, drinking said coffee, and picking out presents from a series of catalogs that had been tossed back and forth from one another for the last few weeks. It was child's play to figure out where the strongest desires for an object or objects was, and scrying out the locations in a small stone basin even more so. The transportation spell, though, was tricky; it always took a lot out of him when it was just him, and multiple large items was exhausting. But as the light filtered in, he collapsed on the couch with a grin and lifted the last of the spells, using a tiny little zephyr to summon his housemates down to the first floor.

As first Gambit, then Rogue and Wolverine, stopped dead on the stairs, he gave them a little wave, his eyes growing fond as Steve followed behind them, sleepy-eyed and rumpled.

"Merry Christmas, everyone."

**Okay, it's August, but screw that, everyone needs a little cheer. And it seemed like the right time to post it. Off to bed, for I've an early morning with a sick nephew, but I'll see everyone next chapter!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier**

**Warnings: Graphic depictions of Loki's torture and starvation at the hands of the Asgardians, Logan's mouth, Remi's mouth.**

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Summary: Millenia ago, gods walked upon the land humans swarm over now, and Loki decides that on true Midwinter, he ought to seek out the remnants of the spirits that once flourished here...**

**The Winter Soldier**

Surprisingly, their Yule celebration went rather well, and Loki had once more gained both the support and respect of the mutants he lived with. The day had been good; long, but good, and Loki had found himself dozing off, tucked into an armchair with Steve acting as his personal foot massuese. Gambit and Rogue were sprawled together across the couch, her fiery curls falling over his chest as she slept, and his hands gently working circles on her shoulders. Wolverine was sitting by the fire, eyes watching the flames, both his hands propping his head up. Sleep had come easy that night, and several nights after, and so the week after passed with little incident.

As they had simply left the decorations up, Loki didn't quite notice it was Midwinter until the morning of it, and stopped for a moment, setting his cup down with definite clink. Steve paused where he was laughing at an old joke with Wolverine, his eyes curious.

"Loki?"

"What day is today?" Marie screwed up her face to squint at the calendar hanging from the wall.

"Looks like...the third. No, the fourth...oh, it's Midwinter."

"Exactly so. If I may...Midwinter is a special time for me, and I've had no occasion to celebrate it in many, many years...might I be allowed to go out and meditate over it?" Wolverine glanced at Steve and shrugged.

"Ain't no skin off my back. Given what he pulled for Christmas, he could have left at any time." Gambit just grinned.

"We'll have food and drink ready." Steve looked at him, and gave him a swift, gentle smile.

"Be safe. There's only one of you." Loki blinked at that, his mouth working a little, and took himself off before his emotions got the better of him. That kiss the night before Yule had been the first of three; one on Christmas Eve, after the others had gone to bed, and one more, the week before, a shy little caress before Steve had gone to his room. It was slow-going, but...to have his attentions so clearly returned...He felt a smile touch his lips as he pulled his cloak on, and slipped out the door.

There, he let the cold flow around him, and didn't bother with the heat shield. He, personally, had no issue with cold weather, and he sighed a little as the snow-laced wind teased his hair out of it's loose braid, leaving it to stream down his back. He set off to the north, green eyes picking out an old deer trail...and the moment he set foot on it, a smile curved across his face. Oh, he knew this area, knew it well. As the mage made his way down the pine-shadowed path, the memories began to return, on snowflake and breath of wind, footstep by footstep.

Weathered memories, they were, lost in tree-shadow and far-off hazy moonlight, and he gathered them close, weaving the tears between each one, as patient as any master craftsman. Some, he knew by their color and the taste left in the air, to be ones of sudden strength and pain; those he smoothed out and softened the edges of, tying them all back into the tattered fabric of time and space. Were his human friends to see him now, they would be shocked; he looked more like a wraith than a man, half in the world he knew now, half in the one he had before.

A good many memories came from the slumbering land itself, offered up as he passed, for it had known the touch of many a god, not in the least of which was he. Those ghosts of tale and song began to follow him now, fox and coyote, wolfpack and silent apemen, a haunting mockingbird's trill the only sound in the forest. They led him as much as they followed; guided him to the heart of the forest, and to his other self.

"Fair travels, Wraith-Prince." The Trickster who greeted him was a far, far cry from the Loki the Avengers and his adoptive family knew today. A wild, untamed mane of vibrant, bloody red, far more terrible in color than even Agent Romanov's, crowned a lean, saturine face, the pale skin of which was inset with glowing amber eyes. He was clad in all black silk, the likes of which no human would ever see in this world again, and the tight-fitting robe was as elaborate as Loki's was simple...and yet, they moved the same, sounded the same...split by time and the shifting hearts of the human race.

"And to you, Forest-God. 'Tis a fair day for a Midwinter's Work." He responded softly, keeping his head bowed. This other part of him had what he did not in power, and he knew too well that to forget that would mean not his death...but his consumption to feed their starving essences. They had none to worship them now...and even the most friendly of gods need that rare ambrosia that their mortal followers had so readily once bestowed. But barring that...they need only consume one another to put a temporary end to such requirements.

"Aye...and 'tis a fair time. Ought is changing in the world..." Loki smiled a little at that, and began to tell him why, when the god of mischief held up a hand, eyes solemn. From around the clearing, every avataristic creature associated with Loki in the Northern wastes slipped from the shadowy pines and took up a vigil around the two gods, filling in the quadrants of a casual compass rose, with the forest's god to the south, and winter's prince to the north.

"Aye, that which you offer is truth, but a grave menace has thought to slip past your defenses and ours, and all for the promise of using you once more." Silence echoed hollowly, and Loki was aware only of the fear pounding in his veins, tinting his green eyes crimson...and the other nodded, golden eyes softening just a touch. "You love..."

"I care for...many people. He, most of all. And if Thanos seeks me..."

"He will not seek you alone. We shall ensure that." _That_ shocked the mage, enough that he felt his fear fall away, and while he sought to contain himself, his mind raced. While they had significant power, gods, and the beliefs and believers who bore them across wild seas and furlongs of forest, not inclined, usually, to work well with one another. Least of all when the god petitioning was one and the same as those petitioned. And that was something his other self found deeply amusing...

"My deepest, truest thanks. To all of you." He replied softly, bowing low to bird and beast, to giant and godling both. Behind his counterpart lay a tree of the far south; a blossoming deciduous whose curling branches formed a lopsided, yet strangely beautiful heart, even in the dead of winter. It alone had no snow upon it, though soft white mounds filled it's center, for long, long ago, it had been stricken in two by a lightning bolt, no less than Thor's doing, that. But still, it held a power, the likes of which Loki had only seen but briefly long ago, and with a flicker of a hand, the forest-god summoned it in a gust of icy wind.

The magic, the power wrapped around Loki like a cloak, and was soon joined by beasts and spirits alike, all giving that which they could spare before fading back into the forest, returning to their forms, their slumber as easily as they'd been roused. It took far longer than he'd thought, and by the time all was said and done, nightfall was drawing her blanket of stars across the sky. Loki came out of the trance to the shock of his other self staring him down...white-haired now, and wrinkled as an old apple. Only the eyes hadn't changed, and the old man smiled sharply.

"Use it well...and remember. You are as much the land as we, for Yggdrisil's roots only go so deep..."

...

Staring out into the cosmos did nothing to ease the anger that radiated from the great being's form, and his advisor clicked his claws nervously together. His Lord would not appreciate being bothered...but he had said he wanted all reports on Laufeyson's wearabouts and powers, and judging by the spike recently recorded on the human planet, they'd finally found a break in their fruitless searching. He hoped so, at any rate. It was getting damned difficult replacing monitors when Lord Thanos threw them into a nebula...

"Speak, fool." That deep voice caught him off guard, and his voice came out a slightly more fearful rasp than usual.

"W-we have discovered the location of the Asgardian prince, my Lord..."

"I care not for the exploits of the Odinson..."

" 'Tis not Thor, my liege." Thanos turned a little at that, his arms still crossed behind his back, and dead red eyes stared down at his servant. He disliked being interrupted, but the advisor pushed on, taking courage from the continued readings on his pad. "Laufeyson, Loki, is on Earth...and has gained more power than he had raised before. How such is done, we do not yet know..." The sound of massive teeth grinding made him rush through the last sentence. "But he is exiled from Asgard, and from the groups known as the Fantastic Four, the X-men, and the Avengers!" He quaked on his feet now, eyes downcast...when his Lord moved past him, making for the screen showcasing what was happening all around Earth.

The advisor followed, cautious, and watched as Thanos began following the coordinates listed on the screen's top, at last zooming in on a bubble of protected area, the likes of which was still echoing from the newly released power. The shield covering the area made it impossible to really see what was there; a true cloaking device or spell then, not merely one of misdirection. Loki could not have raised this...his power now could not even summon such a mammoth creation without aid. There was, however, one psychic who could, with a little boosting...and probably had, given Xavier's quest for the right path.

A deep chuckle sounded from the Lord, and for a moment, the advisor wondered if he might be better off gathering up his nestmate and younglings...but the next moment sealed his fate, for Thanos's hand landed upon his head, bowing it down.

"Fine work...seek out the creator of the shield, and destroy it. I do not give up my pawns lightly..."

...

The silent white cat that Loki so rarely saw was waiting in the window for him, same as the Captain; Steve was staring out at the stars when Loki made his way up the porch, looking tired but elated, and he leapt up, the door open and taking his cloak so fast that the mage was tempted to make a filthy joke. But one look at the spread laid out for him on the coffee table made the retort die in his throat, and he caught Steve's arm, pulling him close for a moment to brush a kiss across his lips.

"You needn't have gone to the trouble..." He murmured softly, cold fingers warming against warm skin, and the soldier grinned.

"No trouble at all...I've been keeping Princess company since the others went to bed. C'mon, you need food." Loki laughed and nodded, joining him on the couch and piling a plate high.

"I'll not argue with you on that." A few glasses of hot tea and two plates later, the mage was leaning into the captain and stroking his hands across one of Steve's, memorizing each callous, each scar left from years of bullying and beatings. It angered him, that there were those who had hurt this gentle man...and deep in his heart, he felt the shame of knowing that he'd done the same. Not even the most tender of kisses could erase that...

"Penny for your thoughts?" Steve's voice was a balm in the darkness Loki knew too well, and he clung to it, turning to embrace the soldier and snuggle into his chest.

"They're not worth that much, love..."

"Let me be the judge of that." The mage stared up at him, entranced by the play of firelight across his face, and the words tumbled out, breathless and more than a little nervous.

"Kiss me?" Steve blinked, then a slow, knowing smile touched his lips, and before Loki knew it, he was pulled into the other man's lap and...oh. He'd read the trashy novels and smutty fiction many a time, mostly for a giggle, and had long ago squished the notion, and faint hope, that a full-body kiss might be possible. The writings had _nothing_ on the actual experience, and when Steve had pulled away, breathing roughly, his face red, it was Loki who dove back in, headlong, tangling his fingers into the soldier's hair. Love and lust and want and need warred with his fear, and finally they banished it, leaving him limp and content in the captain's arms. As sleep began to draw him away, he tucked his head under Steve's chin and wrapped his fingers around his dog tags, the warm metal his last thought as the darkness swept in.

**Forgive me, my dears, it's been a rough week. Let's see here...Alright, plot's moving forward a little now, and FEELINGS are gonna get tangled up with responsibility. Also, pranking; give me some of your favorite Loki-inspired pranks! Most of the ones I have aren't really great for this story, but I'll take and credit anyone who has some for me! Bonus points if they involve Tony, Clint, or Thor. You get a brownie if they involve Coulson, and if they get to Fury...well, I've got a passport to Asgard for ya!**

**Also, thanks again to my old, and new reviewers! Your reviews mean the world to me, and I love seeing new ones. They make it so much easier to continue the story, because I know someone wants to read it!**

**(Also, bonus points if you recognize where the other Loki comes from. Hint: The novel it comes from also features other gods...)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier, IronSoldier**

**Warnings: Graphic depictions of Loki's torture and starvation at the hands of the Asgardians, Logan's mouth, Remi's mouth.**

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Summary: There was something just not right...**

**The Winter Soldier**

Logan couldn't explain it, but there was just something wrong about things in the cabin. He was alone, for a change; Gambit was down working on the plane, Rogue with him to both keep him company and practice her powers, and Steve and Loki had gone out into the woods, Loki giving the soldier a crash course in deep winter survival. January had come in with a roar...a blizzard piled up almost to the roofline snow so frozen he couldn't even pickaxe it away; they'd had to rely on Loki and Gambit to melt away the stuff without flooding the whole plateau. That had been an experience, and one he didn't ever want to repeat again...but that didn't explain why things felt wrong.

Sighing a little, he went back to work, work being a long walking stick of silvery Russian Olive that he'd picked up ages ago, and hadn't had the time to carve. The design was slow-coming and difficult, but he didn't mind it. A phoenix rising...his eyes closed a little, and he took the newly sharpened knife, whitling away slowly, forming claws, long, curling tail feathers, the beginnings of a set of wings, gloriously spread...it was then that he glanced over at his bookshelf, where a small wooden statue of a bear sat, and blinked. He always put the bear facing towards the door; old habit, that...he most certainly didn't leave it on its side.

...

"Jarvis, pull up the feeds."

"Are you quite sure, sir? The other Avengers are asleep at this hour..."

"Humor me, Jarvis. I need something to calm my nerves before I do something stupid like lighting a cigerette with the repulsor again."

"...I understand, sir." Tired brown eyes glanced up from the holographic layout of the Mark VIII to the flat screen on the wall, now lit with dim blues and shadows as the camera feeds from the satellite hovering over the cabin came through. He shifted a little and tapped out a few commands on his interface; the viewpoint shifted from the living room to Steve's bedroom, through the window...empty and a little lonely. "Huh...scan the area. Maybe he's just exploring."

As Jarvis searched for glowing warm vital signs, Tony sighed a little to himself and ran grease-streaked fingers through his hair, one hand tapping lightly on the arc reactor's surface. He was still a little angry at the man for outright abandoning them...or at least, he told himself that when the others were around...But still. Two months? That was just...it was hard, without their team leader. Steve was the glue that kept the team together...and now, Tony was beginning to wonder if Steve had ever felt that way about them. He didn't want to think about the answer being anything other than yes.

Bruised eyes closed as he thought back to Thor's admission, the big blonde oaf's nose still bloodied and broken, and tried, very hard, not to feel sorry for Loki. After they'd gotten everything settled, the yelling dimmed down and the accusations laid to rest, Thor had explained everything...except for Steve's reaction. He was honestly bewildered by the way the Captain had acted, and at last Bruce and Natasha had taken him aside, showing him the reels from the Holocaust...and it was then that Thor had truly broken down. Tony, personally, couldn't quite see why Steve had lost control...but then again...the description of Loki's torture and starvation were...terrible.

Calloused fingers touched his lips, and not for the first time in the last few months, Tony shuddered, feeling his gorge rise. He may not have had them stitched together, but they'd been bruised and split, frozen and left sputtering, crushed and left numb by the jolts from the car battery once wired into his chest. Dirty fingernails closed around the edge of the reactor, and he forced himself to breathe, long, slow, steady. Just as Steve had taught him...

"Sir?" His head came up, as though he hadn't just had a sickening panic attack, and tired eyes focused again on the TV screen, looking a little confused.

"Uh, Jarvis? Are Loki and Steve having a...snowball fight?"

"I believe so, sir. Would you care for a closer inspection?"

"...No. No, it's alright..." His voice trailed off as the soldier tackled the mage, pinning him to the ground...and those handsome lips closed over Loki's, clearly no stranger to the other man. Oh. That one realization nearly blew Tony back into the couch, and distantly, he was aware of Dummy wheeling over, tentatively holding out a filthy old rag, touching just below the engineer's cheek with it. He probably just wanted to clean up the grease smear...because Tony Stark wasn't crying. Crying was what kids did, and he'd learned early on that he wasn't a kid...or at least, he wasn't meant to be.

"Sir." Jarvis's voice was soft, concerned, and Tony closed his eyes, leaning his head back. "Would you like me to shut the feeds down?"

"No." He sounded froggy; must have been lack of lubrication, since there was a huge ass lump in his throat..."Just...um...can you turn on Wall-E? Please? I need to work on Dummy's servos again, and he likes that movie." Well, he did too, but, you know, because it was a great philosophic view of humanity and AI...not because it was cute as hell, and sad. Nope, not at all. And not because there was a horrible pain in his chest, and the lump in his throat and the wetness on his cheeks, because he wasn't heartbroken that the man he'd fallen head over heels with was kissing their enemy.

Nope, nope...He closed his eyes tight and leaned his head into Dummy's frame, weak gasps sounding for just a moment, before he was back up, refilling his coffee cup and draining half of it down, watching the two make out with a dispassionate eye, fingers tap-tapping on the reactor once more. Now, however, he moved closer, studying the landscape, not the pair, and took another gulp. That changing light...there was something...something wrong.

"Jarvis, dial it back a half-mile or so; something's not right." As the AI did so, Tony's eyes narrowed, then widened, and he scrambled back a little, coffee mug falling to the floor, bouncing as he stripped off his tee-shirt and yanked out the fire-proof suit that went under the Mark VIII. "Jarvis, give the call! There's a portal opening over them!"

"Already done, sir, and SHIELD is notified as well. Shall I call on any others?" Tony swore as his pants wouldn't come off; after a moment, he shimmied out of the jeans and slid into the suit, sprinting across the workshop to get into the suit.

"Call Richards! And patch me through to Logan's cellphone! I don't care what you have to do, just do it!"

...

Steve smirked and ducked as another snowball sped towards him; Loki had tossed him off almost as soon as he'd captured him, and taken to the woods once more, mocking laughter chasing him as the soldier tried to catch up. He felt his blood quicken again, and he ducked once more, turning now and tossing a silvery missile at the tree that the mage had darted behind. A hand waved at him, and disappeared as another ball sped towards the tree, Loki's bright laughter making him grin.

"Gotta come out, sooner or later!"

"Not in the least! You must come find me!" He grinned and slipped through the snow, hoping to surprise him, but found only footprints and empty space...and ice-cold snow slipped down his collar. As Steve yelped and danced around, trying to get it out of his sweater, Loki lounged on the snowbank, purring delicately and waggling his eyebrows at the soldier. Steve shivered a little and brushed the last of the snow melted away, and he sagged back against the tree, grinning weakly.

"Truce for now?"

"Truce. Shall we retire to the cabin?"

"That sounds wonderful." He walked over and offered his hand, pulling Loki into a teasing kiss as he did so, and the mage chuckled, low and dark.

"You'll tempt me, Captain?"

"But of course, Prince."

"Mmm...flattery will get you everywhere."

"All in the plan..." Steve blinked, suddenly, and glanced up, Loki following him a scant second later. "What on earth...?" Suddenly, he was alone, because the mage was pounding up the path back towards the cabin, power trailing from his form. Steve glanced up again, his mouth going dry. That was...that was a portal. Like the one created by the Tesseract..."DANG IT!"

...

Logan sighed, and stood up, setting the walking stick aside as he swept up the shavings, and finally, began to walk over to the bear. He'd left it alone most of the day, telling himself he'd pick up things when the others came back in...but it was bugging the hell out of him, and he reached out, gently picking up the wooden bear and setting it, neatly, on the shelf...when a roar filled the air, and Loki burst through the door, closely followed by Steve, and shoved Wolverine aside as he intercepted the giant hand reaching through the portal. Fire burned across the hand, but a deep laugh echoed through the cabin, bringing Gambit and Rogue tearing into the room...and Loki whirled, grabbing a hold of each of them and willing, with all his might, that his teleportation would work.

...

Tony was clunking through the living room, waiting for Clint to bring the Quinjet around, when a flash of light and a tangle of bodies dropped before him, Steve nearly at his feet. He dropped to his knees and caught the dazed soldier's face in his gloves, faceplate retracting.

"Steve! Cap, snap out of it!" But his attention was diverted by a tall, lean figure prying itself from the other three, swaying weakly before it ran to the bar, and not for the first time in his tower, Tony Stark watched an Asgardian vomit up his guts into his trashcan. "Jarvis?"

"Yes, sir?"

"...keep video of that. I might need it later." The disapproval was thick in Jarvis's voice.

"...as you wish, sir."

**Sorry this took me so long! I hit a wall, and it wasn't pretty. But, time for people to come clean, angst to be worked out, and Loki and Tony butting heads. Constantly.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier, IronSoldier, FrostIron (Oh yeah, I went there too. YOU'RE ALL WELCOME)**

**Warnings: Triggers- Tony's torture in Afghanistan, Loki's torture, and Steve's PTSD.**

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Summary: Loki doesn't feel well, Fury's gonna rip everyone a new asshole, and Tony and Steve dance around each other. Also, Coulson's drinking problem is everyone.**

**The Winter Soldier**

Tony stared out the balcony window, bottle of scotch in hand, and offered it blindly to Coulson, who took a healthy swig and handed it back. The Director was coming in from a conference with the European side of SHIELD, and neither man was willing to remain sober and take the ass-whupping that'd be arriving in eight hours...of course, the alcohol could only help at this point, what with Richards bitching about the portal, Clint bitching about Loki, and Natasha tossing her knives.

"Jarvis, what's Tinkerbell's status over there?" The AI that gave his Tower life gave a sigh, and the impression that he was rubbing the bridge of his nose, if he'd had a nose.

"...the prince is currently in a comatose state, presumably from the excess use of his powers, and is being tended by Doctor Banner and Thor. I am keeping Mr. Barton and Ms. Romanov from creating a new door, but I must ask that Agent Coulson come calm them down; I would not wish to destroy our relationship with an electrical surge." Tony cracked a smirk, just a little, and beside him, the shadow of an agent sighed.

"Of course you don't...Stark, can I trust you to keep the Captain from doing anything stupid? I really, really do not need the paperwork right now." Tony winced a little, but cleared his throat and nodded.

"Go ahead, Agent. Let me know if either of them needs a distraction; I'm sure I can get Dummy to calm them down."

"I might just take you up on that offer...but right now, look to the team leader; he's going to be beating himself up over this." Tony sighed and turned towards the workshop, one hand ruffling through oil-streaked hair.

"I know..." But Tony had other plans. His workshop was at the very heart of the tower, and really, next to Bruce's lab, it was the safest place in the world...And there was Steve, head bowed, large body curled in on itself as he held his sketchbook in both hands, eyes fixed on the page. Tony knew what he was looking at...knew it like he knew his own armor. It was a picture drawn of Dummy and Tony, the former playing with the pencils while Tony worked on his wheels...and it had been the last thing Steve had done before he'd left.

Tony could remember that night so clearly; it'd been fueled by coffee and Disney movies, and Dummy's wheels being so jacked up it wasn't even funny, and Steve's laughter, and Tony's small confession, early, early in the morning...to a man who'd fallen asleep being used a pillow for a greasy engineer. In retrospect, Tony had wondered if maybe Steve was just tired of them all; they had dumped a lot on his shoulders since the team had been formed, and that night, Tony had all but forced him to stay, keeping him up with inane engineering and quite a little bit of scotch, and as Steve passed the time laughing at him and watching movies, he had sketched. When he'd gone upstairs in the morning...well...he'd left his sketch book behind.

And for two long months, Tony had found himself keeping it in the safest place in the workshop, poring over characatures and busts and cityscapes, of cute little sketches and sweeping drawings that made his breath catch...and he'd kept them close to his heart, almost every night. But then again, he hadn't seen his bedroom in all that time...he couldn't bear to leave the shop. Not unless he had to. And even then...he left Dummy with the book.

"We've been waiting for you to come home, you know." He was rather proud that his voice only cracked a little, and deep brown eyes closed as Steve glanced up him, face twisted in anguish. "We, being everyone in this fucking city, it seems, because you made a lot of friends, and we had to tell them you weren't around, or that you were off on a mission, and reality was? We had no fucking idea. Not until Xavier finally, FINALLY spilled the beans and I hacked a fucking international satellite. Like, a big friggin' satellite. You left us in the dark to save Thor's genocidal little brother who'd just gotten his ass handed to him and his lips sewn shut.

"I get that, I really do, because, you know, I went though the same sort of shit, and even though I was mad as hell at first, I came around, same as everyone else, because we trusted that you knew what the fuck you were doing. But you could have fucking called us. Talked to us. You know why we didn't? Because we COULDN'T. Because Charles is such a good fucking psychic that he kept us all in complete FUCKING radio silence. YOU, Mr. Rogers, had that power; we didn't. And dammit, I don't care if you have to fucking use Morse Code, you contact us. You would demand the same damn thing from ANY of us. And right now, this? You and I? No one's gonna hear about this. But you talk to me. You TELL me, the next time something like this comes up. Because I understand. I know you think I don't, but I do."

He was breathing hard now, hands balled into fists, eyes angry and flashing. "And dammit, you know, that was a fucking dick move to do that to your team..." _To me._ "You better be thankful we didn't let Fury nuke your ass; he was going to. The whole council was going to drop a fucking atomic bomb on all of you, never mind that three very prominent X-Men and Captain-fucking-America were in the middle, playing buddy-buddy with fucking Loki. We told him we'd blast him into the next life. Thor nearly went postal. And none of this, NONE of it would have happened if you'd just taken the time from playing slap-and-tickle with an Asgardian fucking god and picked up the phone."

Tony stalked over to the workbench and swung a leg over, refusing to look at the man now. He couldn't see Steve's face without seeing the hurt...without seeing the pain. "We trusted you..." He murmured, screwdriver toying with a small piece of one of Butterfingers' 'hands', taking a long, deep breath to steady himself, to keep the stinging pain back in his eyes...

"I know, Tony." Crap. Steve's voice was soft, subdued...and Tony tipped his head back, swallowing with difficulty. God, he hated, hated, HATED it when Steve was upset...but he deserved it. After what he'd kept back from them...he deserved it. And Tony was not going to back down. Not this time. "I...I was stupid, I should have asked if I could contact the team...you...the Tower...calmed things down..."

"But you needed a break from us." The statement was blunt, a little harsh, and Tony turned to face him now, eyes firm, arm propped up on the table. "Don't deny it; we've misused our Captain...and that's the blunt truth." As Steve made to shake his head, he held up a hand, taking a deep breath. "Cap, let's face the facts; you were stressed, you felt unappreciated, and that night Thor dropped that bomb in your lap, you snapped. And you saved a life. You did what we wouldn't have, because you recognized that even if Loki was absolutely batshit...maybe he deserved to die some place that wasn't a frozen wasteland. And that's admirable; I can't even begin to imagine how much that screwed you up, seeing him abandoned like that in Greenland."

"...It was horrible." Steve's eyes were shadowed, and he rubbed one large hand over his face, breath coming shaky and scared. "He was...god, Tony, he was so thin he looked like a shadow...and he was soaked in blood. All of it his own. He never lifted a finger; he accepted his punishment, until it came time to sew his lips shut. He couldn't do that...he couldn't bear that humiliation, that terror, because words? They're his power. And he's too battered to give up that tiny power. But he ran, ran long enough that he was teleported away to the tundra, and left to die. Thor...Thor thought he was a coward! He was whipped, beaten to a pulp...that's not cowardice, that's survival!

"He didn't trust us, but he let us take care of him. All of us; he talked about the past with Logan and I, about the future with Gambit and Rogue. He befriended the cats, cared for the land, and even brought us a Christmas, far away from our homes. And he apologized. For everything. He's...he saved us tonight. We never would have known what was happening, if he hadn't seen the portal, and reacted. We never thought we'd be attacked by anyone other than...um..."

"Anyone other than us." Tony felt like he was going to be sick, and judging by the look on Steve's face, he could see it in the engineer's eyes.

"God, Tony, that's not what I-"

"Yeah, it is." The screwdriver was flung, clattering on the floor as Tony stood up, eyes almost black with rage and sorrow, hands shaking as they clenched and unclenched. He couldn't stop staring at Steve, his nose flaring as he grit his teeth. "Yeah, that's what you fucking meant. You fucking thought we, the most screwed up heroes on the planet, were gonna come and off you just like that, just because you made what we all thought was a bad life decision. Do you have any idea how fucking _humiliating_ that feels? How fucking WRONG it is to hear that?"

"You were the first friend I had who didn't judge me." Tony's voice was flat now, somehow growing younger, sadder. "You were a hero who was also a normal guy. And goddamn, that was _nice_. That was amazing. And then, you know, when all this happened...I still fucking feel sorry for Loki. I still do. And I can accept the fact that you've ripped my fucking heart out-" Tony stopped, shocked, and damn near started crying when Steve's face twisted, this time in horror and genuine concern.

"You...you like me? Like that?" All the wind blew out of him, and Tony sagged back, insanely grateful that Dummy had been behind him all along, and traced shaky fingers over the bot's arm, taking comfort in something that might have been the farthest thing from human, but didn't judge him right now. Great. He was getting comfort from a piece of steel and programs. That was just fucking peachy..."Tony..." He shoved off of Dummy's frame, gently, and stalked to the door, hand coming up to card through his hair again, this time in agitation.

"I need to talk to Loki." Behind him, Steve all but fell over his feet trying to follow, and with a flip of a switch, Tony was out the door and Steve was sealed in, pounding on the steel for Tony to let him out. He leaned into the speaker and his eyes narrowed. "Sit down, Captain. As makeshift team leader, I'm authorized to do what I wish with my team within reasonable limits. And for now, you're in quarantine due to contact with unauthorized alien fluids. Attempt to break this door, or any of the walls, and Jarvis will taze your ass into next Tuesday. As for said alien, it is my job to determine both his origin and reasoning behind his hiding on this planet. If you have any complaints, kindly direct them at the vision of my ass receding into the elevator, because no one else is going to care."

As he secured the locks and headed to the elevator, Tony had to force his anger, fear, and that all consuming need to just grab the stupid blonde and kiss him back into the recesses of his shriveled up heart and pull a calm, cool face out. He'd need it more for the others than for Loki.

...

Loki had been awake for a space of time, but he'd kept himself still, his breathing shallow, his eyes closed. Part of that was caution; the rest was indescribable pain, that felt like it was taking an eternity to fade away. He'd overheard the doctor talking to Thor; something about how the X-men had been sent back home, presumably in disgrace, and another scientist, a Dr. Richards, was studying the portal from a safe distance, complete with his little group. Loki, personally, didn't care; he felt like he'd gone a thousand rounds with Thor and Mjolnir, and that was enough to make him more than content to lay there and be fussed over...though, were he to admit it to himself...he did not mind Thor's hand in his. Those huge fingers should have crushed him, yet they cradled his bruised flesh, and smoothed back his hair, that familiar voice, deep with sorrow, murmuring soft apologies in the tongue of the Aesir.

"Thor, buddy, I need to talk to him." Loki ventured a peek through his eyelashes; Stark. Of course.

"But, Tony..."

"Please. I promise you, I won't do anything more than talk; but it's got to be me, and it's got to be before Fury gets here. Bruce?"

"...Alright, but antagonize him in this state, and I'll personally toss you and the Mark VIII off the balcony myself."

"Duly noted." The door shut, and Tony took the seat Thor had vacated. Both of Loki's eyes were open now, and Tony gave him a raised eyebrow as he slumped forward, dark eyes void of any humor. "So. Wanna tell me how easy it is to seduce Captain America, or do I need to deduce that for myself?" Loki closed his eyes for a moment, a weak sigh sounding from his lips.

"How long have you been watching?"

"Long enough. Long enough to realize that you could have left. Why didn't you?"

"...I bound myself down to others. I trusted the Captain's words...and he has not let me down. I came here...because I knew not where else to go." Tony watched him evenly, finally huffing out a sigh of his own.

"Well, fuck, if you're lying, I can't tell. So I'm gonna assume the truth. You're really a redeemed soul now?" Loki nodded, faintly, wincing a little as another shot of pain seared through him. "...Well, morphine makes the worst of men honest. Has Bruce given you any painkillers?"

"I am afraid not. I have asked, but he did not want me drugged before the Director's arrival."

"Fuck that, the pain's gonna make you loopy anyway. I'll authorize it; I'm used to Fury chewing my ass out."

"I am sorry for that." The whisper was soft, but real, and Loki swallowed as Tony turned to gaze at him, a little nervous at the shadows in those eyes. "I truly am."

"...God help me, but I believe you. Alright, fine. You're fixed, healed, whatever. I'll authorize the painkillers, if you'll do me a favor and avoid any stupid shit, like teleporting three people. Otherwise, that video gets spread to the junior agents." Loki blinked in confusion for a moment, before it dawned on him, and the horror spread.

"Oh, Odin's beard, no."

"So don't do anything. Really. Steve's in my workshop, and probably still pissed off; but as soon as Fury gets here, he's gonna try and either shoot both of you, or have you both locked up. And we can't afford that. I can't handle that, right now; too much stress and I end up designing shit like the fucking Mark I..." He muttered, pulling down Loki's chart and making a few quick notations for Bruce. "Besides, then there's the debriefing for the torture." The mage's face went slack, and the alarm must have shown in his eyes, because now Tony smiled, sharp and entirely without humor.

"Oh, yeah, that shit's fucking fun, because a little fucking prick with a bald spot tells you how to talk about your 'interrogation experiences', because yay, let's all get it out there that in some parts of the world, making someone continually think they're drowning for hours on end just for shits and grins, then putting a big fucking magnet in their chest and hooking a car battery to it is just goddamn peachy, because, yeah, then they do that shit all over again, and now you've got the fear of water and electricity and you're always fucking drowning, always lost in the waves and the sand and-"

"The cold." Loki was sitting up now, his fear pressing him back into the wall as green eyes stare blankly into Tony's, whose, in turn, are back in the cave, little spasms shaking his body as his fingers grip the edges of the arc reactor. "That monstrous, killing cold that saps the body of it's strength, and yet you're not dead, can't die, can't let go because the pain is still there, still burning through you..." His fingers gripped his lips, and a weak, half-dying whimper came from them, snapping Tony out of his own remembrance...and calloused, greasy fingers reached for the mage, brown eyes no longer dead, but frightened, now, and looked so much younger than they could have ever been...

Loki took them.

...

Bruce found them, pressed together against the wall on the floor, a bottle of high-end scotch passing between the pair as they sat there, just barely touching, but talking softly, keeping far away from even the idea of pain, though Tony never just dropped the bottle into Loki's grasp. The mage was still badly bruised; he was almost blue, so many blood vessels had burst into roseates. But his natural healing ability must have kicked in, because they were slowly fading to green now, and the deeper bruising around his eyes had lightened considerably. Though Bruce didn't support alcohol in a healing patient, clearly, this was what both of them had needed...because when Loki looked up and Tony waved, they were wearing almost identical smiles of relaxation.

And that, for Bruce, was just enough for him to warn them that Fury was three hours early.

**Long chapter! I started this today, actually, and I'd hoped to get it done in time to sleep well. I hope I covered all the threads...if not, give me a review! In the mean time, I'd like to say thank you to everyone, once more! You've all been a tremendous source of inspiration and dare I say, joy for this story, and I'm looking forward to several more chapters to come!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier, IronSoldier, FrostIron, FrostIronSoldier, PhilxClint, NatashaxBruce**

**Warnings: Triggers- Tony's torture in Afghanistan, Loki's torture, and Steve's PTSD.**

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Summary: In which Nick Fury has a twitchy trigger finger, Clint concedes defeat, and Loki and Tony argue about how to catch the illusive Steven Rogers. Also, the Hulk and Bruce, and Tasha make cookies.**

**The Winter Soldier**

The scent of warm banana-oatmeal cookies was entirely at odd with the tense atmosphere filling the Tower's main living space, but nobody in their right mind was about to tell either the good doctor or his big green alterego to stop their meditative baking. Not even Nick Fury had a pair that big. Clint was helping them both, apron and lurid green chef's hat dusted with flour, and Thor was acting as taste tester while Coulson and Natasha argued in soft, harsh Russian, presumably about the intelligence of letting the Asgardian have that much sugar...leaving the Director to stare darkly down at Loki, Steve, and Tony, two of which were passing a large bottle of vodka between them.

Steve had calmed down when Thor had freed him from the workshop; to his shock, Loki and Tony were sitting on the couch, swapping mildly intoxicated quips about several executives they both knew, and munching from a large bowl of popcorn. They lounged in almost identical jeans and shirts; small surprise, since Loki's clothing was soaked from the snow and now mildly scarred from Thanos's attack, though the dark prince's ankles showed a good six inches past the cuff and the shirt was just a little too short.

Thor, smiling the whole time, steered the Captain over and onto the couch, handing him the bowl and the bottle before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving Tony and Loki to stare at him, both more than a little drunk. It was...a little unnerving to see them eye him like a prize piece of meat...but it was nothing near as terrifying as Director Fury's arrival, that panther-like tread sending shivers up the soldier's spine, and it took all of his power not to stand up and salute. Tony simply gave the one-eyed man a wave as he munched, while Loki yawned and settled back, supporting the bottle on a throw pillow.

"...You know, you-" One dark finger singled the mage out. "And you-" The other pointed at Tony. "Are the biggest pains in my ass I have ever had the displeasure of not being able to shoot." He withdrew the fingers to cross his arms, eye narrowing as Loki stifled what was clearly a drunken giggle. "How much damn alcohol have you idiots gotten into?!" Tony grinned a little and motioned to the long line of bottles on the bar, a gesture that made Steve drop his head into his hands and wonder if he could survive a shot from a 9mm at point blank range. Probably. He just wouldn't like it.

"Y'know, Fury, you could stand to lighten up a little..."

"My ulcer and I thank you for that remarkable assessment, Stark." He muttered, his voice heavy with irony. "Now will you kindly explain how an Asgardian god, a known public enemy of the human race, was dropped here, rescued by Captain America, sheltered by mutants, and is being chased by a guy who's so damned powerful we don't stand a chance alone against him." All fingers pointed to the big, golden-haired god in the kitchen, and Fury rubbed his eyepatch, grumbling. "Alright, fine. But why in the hell didn't you contact us?"

Steve was quiet as he studied his hands, well aware that everyone was studying him now...except for Tony. Tony's eyes were on the sky outside, and he was pointedly avoiding looking at anyone else. Even Loki was watching him, far more sober than he had been a moment ago...and Steve sighed.

"Maybe he was an enemy to you...but...no one deserves to die like that. No one. And...you know how the ice affects me. You've been to the debriefings, read over the files. You were the one who sent me to the Avengers, and to the agents, to get me caught up on the modern world...and all because of what? That I was a hero? What if I'd been a villain? Would you have left me in the ice, or would you have unearthed me to study me?" The silence was thick enough to slice, and Steve's blue eyes came up, studying the lone brown one staring back at him. "I thought as much. I made a choice. It wasn't the smartest of choices, but...it was the best one."

"I concur." Loki's voice, soft as dark silk, threaded through the unnatural quiet, and Fury's gaze shifted to him, the mage barely blinking his hooded eyes. "Steven Rogers made the only choice a good, decent person could have made, and he braved that cold to save me. I am not worthy of that bravery; I fear I never will be. But I will do my best to show him that yes, I have changed...and I have forgiven those who cast me out. I haven't forgotten...but I have forgiven them. The ways of Asgard are at once harsher, and yet, gentler than mortal society; were I to return now, humbled and healed, I would be accepted back into the fold. Captain Rogers risked knowing that he might not be given the same kindness..."

"Which is stupid, really, because all things considered, there are far worse things he could have done." Tony's voice took up the narrative now, flashing brown eyes challenging Fury for all his worth, all semblance of his usual drunken slur gone. "Look at the life decisions of the rest of this team; I've got, quite frankly, the worst of them under my belt, because I made things, profitted from things that kill lots of people in very messy ways. Sure, I helped charities, and lent money to countries in need and such, but I still was a war profiteer. And you know, I'm going to live with that all my life. There are those who won't ever let me forget it."

"And Steven has done none of those terrible things; he has not slain innocents, nor has he cast others into darkness." Loki stood now, long, thin body shaking, just a little from the strain as he bent his unnerving stare on the man before them.

"He hasn't tortured anyone, hasn't beat on his teammates when they deserved it." Tony followed suit, arms crossing over his chest as he leveled a glare that had once brought a whole room of scientists to a cowering, whimpering huddle on the Director.

"He is a good man." Their voices came together as one, just for that moment, and Fury recoiled, just a twitch, but enough to show that they'd nailed him. If no one was willing to side with the Director, then at least Cap would get off scot-free. Tony wasn't too sanguine about his chances, but hell, he was always in trouble. Came with being a genius. And sexy. It was Tony who smirked, and he rubbed the side of his nose, leaving a long black grease mark.

"So, look. If you want to punish someone, punish the two of us." Fury growled at him, and Tony's grin widened. "C'mon, it's not like I haven't hacked your systems before..."

"We know about that, Stark."

"That would be because I left bread crumbs for you to follow." Loki flashed him a sweet smile.

"Oh, rather like the energy trails I left them?"

"Of course, I based them off of your leavings."

"Oh, flattery will get you everywhere, Stark."

"I do try, Tinkerbell."

"...Okay, I am leaving. The world is a fuckin' strange place when Stark and Loki start talkin' nice to each other." As Fury stalked out, barking orders to Sitwell and the rest of his agents, the engineer waved a little at the others in the kitchen and Steve sighed heavily, wondering if there was enough alcohol in the world to get him drunk enough to forget the feeling that he was going to be strung up.

"Come out, come out, the Wicked Witch of the West is gone." He caroled, making his way around the table and stealing a few cookies. "Man, I thought we were goners..." Coulson looked pained, and tried to cuff him, sighing as Tony danced out of the way.

"Stark, must you make my working life hell?"

"Hey dude, you signed up for this, not me." Clint yawned a little, hawk's glare pinning Loki, but agreed.

"He has a point, Phil...you did agree to be Fury's bitch for the rest of your life." Coulson pinned him with a stare that made the archer lift his hands and back away, an uneasy grin stretching his face. "Easy, easy...don't kill me."

"Don't think I won't." He growled back, taking another cookie and stalking off after his boss, probably heading to his office on the sixth floor. Clint sighed, and followed, stealing a couple of beers out of the fridge, while Natasha propped herself up on the counter next to the scientist, earning a soft smile for her efforts. Bruce shook his head a little at the others, and laid out the rest of the morsels, smiling a little at Loki and Steve both.

"Might as well come share in the bounty; Thor, do you want to spend some time with your brother? We won't need you anytime soon."

"Only if Loki desires such..."

"I would like that." Loki's tone was soft, and Thor perked up at it, stepping forward to offer his arms open for an embrace, almost shaking as his brother wrapped around him, head buried in that broad chest. "Brother..."

"I am so sorry." Thor's voice choked back a sob, and a thin hand came up, gently stroking his blonde hair as he wept softly into a bruised shoulder. "I am so sorry..."

"Hush, you oaf. You are forgiven...you are forgiven..." As Loki led his brother to a more private area, still gently brushing his tears away. Steve looked up at Tony now, who was pointedly staring out at the sky, stack of cookies in one hand and a martini in the other.

"You never let anything bother you, do you?"

"...I think we both know that any answer I give will be bullshit, so let's drop the act, Steve." Not Cap, not Rogers. Steve felt a faint chill up his spine. "As it stands right now, Loki and I both just got ourselves on Fury's secret blacklist. You're still in his good graces, so you get to deal with him."

"Now, wait a minute..."

"Nope, sorry, that's what happens when you've got a super secret love triangle. Now, I'm going down to the workshop; tell Loki you're both welcome to join me."

"Wait, what?!"

...

Bruce sighed a little and leaned in as Natasha's fingers wove through his hair.

"They are incorrigable."

"I believe the term 'encouragable' is more suiting, Doctor..."

"Uh huh, you believe that, beautiful super spy. Alright, so cookies are done, chores are done...what's left on the list?" The 'list', as it was, had been concocted in the early days of the Avengers living together, and while everyone had set tasks, most of the time, it was Bruce and Tasha who filled it out. They rather enjoyed it, though, and he leaned into her shoulder as she pulled it up on her Starkphone.

"Seems to be dinner for two over at Rossolini's, then a long stint in the hot tub watching the stars, and catching the Doctor Who marathon at ten."

"Well then, we can't keep the list waiting."

...

Steve wondered when, exactly, Loki and Tony had become...well...for lack of a better term, friends. He'd finally caved, and asked the mage if he wanted to go down to the workshop, where Tony was sipping coffee, working on Butterfingers, and getting ready to start up his massive collection of cult films. Loki had taken one look, plopped himself on the couch, and all but demanded that Tony press play on 'Blazing Saddles'. From there, Steve retreated to the far side of the couch, and for lack of a better thing to do, since he really wasn't fond of slapstick, drew the pair, Dummy's camera resting on his head.

The god and the genius, both of them laughing wildly, was really a sight to behold; Tony's trademark smirk, and Loki's wicked grin separately had desecrated just about every venue on the planet. Together, they were likely to send mass hysteria through the female population, and probably more than a few of the male, as well. Steve felt a swift grin touch his lips at that, but it faded, just as quickly. Loki had been kind, but...distant, since they'd arrived; at first, Steve was sure that it was because of Thor, and he'd been more than happy to corner Tony in the workshop to avoid any confrontation there. But now...now, he wasn't so sure.

Tony was regalling him with a story of the billionaire's latest judicial circus, complete with near perfect mimicry and expressions, Jarvis's droll voice providing a deadpan backdrop to the whole thing that had Loki in stitches, he was grinning and laughing so hard...and Steve's fingers twitched, just a little. He told himself resolutely that it was not jealousy; there had never been a confirmation of anything between them, anyway, so, y'know...He closed his eyes and sighed softly, and slipped away before his turbulent heart could do any more damage. Dummy trailed behind him, and not for the first time, Steve gave the little bot a rub on his frame and a soft 'thank you', tucking his sketchpad under his arm, relaxing once he was in the elevator alone.

"Jarvis?"

"Yes, Captain Rogers?"

"Please make sure I'm not disturbed tonight. I need to do some deep thinking..."

"Of course, Captain Rogers. Is...this about sir?"

"...A little bit, yes. Nothing bad, though. Nothing that will effect him in the slightest."

"Forgive me, Captain, but...if it effects you, it will effect sir. He very much thinks of you as a good friend, and does not like seeing you unhappy."

"...It's not him that's making me unhappy. It's myself, Jarvis. I promise, if it really needs to be said, I'll tell Tony. Deal?"

"Deal. I've taken the courtesy of asking Agent Coulson to bring you some of the cookies made by Doctor Banner and a glass of milk."

"...Bless you, Jarvis."

"Thank you, sir." As the elevator dinged on his floor, Steve had to smile as Clint loitered in front of his door, munching on a stolen cookie and holding up a half-gallon of milk.

"Phil was busy, so he sent me."

"Fair enough. May I?"

"Sure, sure...I'm gonna go bug Phil and annoy Jarvis."

"Be careful."

"Ah, they both love me...hey, Cap?" He turned a little, plate and jug in his hands, and met the sniper stare that always seemed to bore into him. "Woe be it for me to give romantic advice, but...don't give up so easily. I was pretty pissed off by what Loki did, but afterwards...well...I did a lot of thinking. He was just as screwed up, if not more, as the rest of us. And that has to mean something. Now that he's thinking clear, he really...he really was a good guy to all the scientists. He didn't hurt anyone, didn't threaten, didn't demand anything more than our best. But...he did it in a way that made me want to sit up and be like, 'Yes sir!'. And I hated the Army. So...maybe this whole thing with Stark is just him being a little more...himself, and not the Loki Thanos created."

Steve blinked as Clint grinned a little and waved, stepping back into the silver elevator and disappearing being mirrored doors. A little bemused, he turned and unlocked his door, reveling, just a little, in the scent of clean linen and cinnamon before he slipped inside. That was...the longest conversation he'd ever had with Hawkeye, including debriefings. And he didn't know what to think of it...other than one thing.

"Does EVERYONE have to know about my love life?!"

...

Tony held back a smile as Steve slipped away, clearly dejected, and met his fellow conspirator's eyes with glee.

"He bit."

"Clearly. So, tell me...how are you planning to capture the Captain for yourself?"

"Hey, I thought we agreed that it's a mutual capture. And I have a brilliant plan, because all my plans are brilliant, and all my plans have back-ups, just in case some margin of error actually is fulfilled..." Loki sat back, shaking his head a little and laughing as Tony made a face at him.

"You're quite the schemer, I will admit. So, all this time, you've pined for him?" Brown eyes dropped, and Loki sighed softly. "For that, I must beg your forgiveness. Had I known..."

"No one knew. Seriously. Not my best friend, the doctor, my best man, the pilot, nor my best everything, the CEO who puts up with my shit. The only person who might have guessed was Coulson, but throw Hawkeye at him and he's distracted."

"Ah. That's why he shot me with the lava cannon..."

"Yeah, he's still bitter about that."

"...You really love him, don't you."

"Love's a strong word. Does 'ripped my own arc reactor out' count?"

"I would say so."

"Then yes. Now how about you, Celeborn?"

"...Classy, Stark."

"I am full of class. That's why my eyes are brown." Loki snorted as he took a drink, almost spilling beer all down his front.

"Good grief, if you'd have been head of my temple..."

"You'd have killed me for insolence."

"Touche. In any case, before you ask again...yes. I love him. I don't know how that came about, but I do love him."

"I thought so. So, how are we going to catch the Captain, convince him into a three-way, and get laid, because seriously, I'm going on a two-year dry spell because of that man and I want some tail." Loki smirked, green eyes dancing and clucked the genius under the chin.

"Psh, I'm going on a few _millenia_, Stark. We can wait a little longer."

"Yeah, yeah...Alright. Jarvis? Where's Barton?"

"...In a delicate position atop Agent Coulson's desk."

"Spiffing. Natasha?"

"Asleep against Doctor Banner's shoulder."

"Perfect. Alright, here's what we'll do..."

**MUAHAHAHAHA. This chapter did NOT want to be written. Bastard. Before I go on, I want to say something; all of Loki and Tony's interactions stem from the playful banter in the bar scene of the movie. The rest is crack, and you all love it. I hearby dedicate this chapter to the newly released (in the US) The Avengers! Feel free to celebrate in whatever way you wish! Also, yeah, I ship TashaxBruce. And PhilxClint.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier, IronSoldier, FrostIron, FrostIronSoldier, PhilxClint, NatashaxBruce**

**Warnings: Perviness and an indecent proposal.**

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Summary: Mars is bright tonight, Loki and Tony are on the prowl, Steve is oblivious, and Clint's got it ALL on video. Bonus: Natasha and Bruce talk about children, Clint, and whether mushrooms are meant to be on pizza.**

**The Winter Soldier**

A week later, it was quiet out on the deck, and Tony meandered out, waving a little to the mage leaning on the railing as Loki looked out over the city. It had been storming most of the week, rendering their plans mostly void, since nearly all of them featured Steven Rogers and the great Outdoors, and neither Tony nor Loki felt like hobnobbing with the citizens at the moment. So, Loki had focused on repairing his relationship with his brother, and Tony had sought out the Captain for sparring, giving Steve an excuse to take out his frustration on without worrying about bothering Thor.

But every other night, it seemed, Tony would come out of the gym sweaty and bruised, protein shake in one hand and donut in the other, and find the god of mischief and fire staring at the brilliance of the city. A sad look was always on his face, and Tony watched him for a while, a little forlorn himself. He...didn't do that emotions-thing all that well, after all...

"What's shakin', Tink?"

"...Steve is upset."

"...Yeah, that's...that's partly my fault. I kinda goaded him a little...but, he got all that anger out and he's snoozin' like a babe on the workshop couch."

"...That is good, at least. Thor is talking to the Allfather of possible allies; I asked him to hold until you had had the chance to discuss it with the others."

"Why me?" A pointed stare, and Loki sighed.

"Because you've stipulated many a time that this is _your_ tower."

"...Oh. Right. Gotcha. Perfect. Yeah, no, I'm fine with that, but I swear to God if Volstagg starts bringing home more food than Fandral does women, there will be an intervention." Loki's eyes crinkled in a smile, and he leaned forward to pluck a piece of the donut with long fingers, popping it delicately in his mouth before licking off the frosting. He chuckled a little around that finger as Tony's eyes followed it.

"...Perfect. I'll speak to Thor in the morning. Am I distracting you, Mr. Stark?" Tony's eyes snapped to Loki's, and for a moment, the engineer wondered if it was malice...or real interest glittering in those emerald depths. He opted to believe the latter.

"Actually, you really are."

"Indeed. How so?" Tony grinned, sharp and quick, and leaned in to Loki, a little nervous since he was a good half a head shorter than the Asgardian, but too cocky to show it.

"I can think of better places to put that mouth." The answering smirk was all he needed, and calloused fingers closed in on pale skin, rough lips on scarred.

...

"Mars is bright tonight." Steve woke, suddenly, to Clint's faintly amused voice, and dragged himself out of the covers on the couch, squinting as he realized he was in the workshop, and Dummy was wheeling around picking up his blankets, Clint perched on top like a demented, purple-clad budgie.

"Huh?"

"Crap, I forgot you're not a Potterhead. It's a line from the first book, the Sorcerer's Stone, said by a centaur. It just seemed appropriate."

"...Barton, can you just let me go back to sleep?" Clint gave him a look of what he thought might have been pity; might have also been constipation, though. It was hard to tell with the archer sometimes, since he looked like he'd had his nose broken twice. Nevertheless, the sniper heaved a sigh and clambered down off of Dummy's frame with the kind of ease that came from scaling buildings on a regular basis, and waved a lazy salute at his team leader. Steve watched him leave, then sighed, plopping back down on the couch and yanking the blankets back over himself. But the phrase bugged him, so he turned to the best source of information.

"Hey, Jarvis?"

"Yes, Captain?"

"What did Clint mean by that phrase?"

"...I believe that Agent Barton quoted it in reference to both the planet's presence in Earth's sky, and to the events likely looming over us all. The phrase itself was used as a warning of a harbinger of ill tidings, of war and bloodshed, as the Roman god Mars called that his domain, and throughout human history, such celestial observations have been noted, and acted upon, by warleaders across the span of the human timeline."

"So, it's a pop culture reference, and a historical one?"

"It seems to be, Captain Rogers."

"Huh...alright, that's all I needed to know. Thank you, Jarvis."

"Good night, Captain."

...

The morning came quietly, and Tony had managed to sneak in to the workshop with a yawning Loki, a box of donuts, and a pot of hot coffee, all without waking the sleeping Captain on the couch. Steve was a ginormous pile of blankets with a tuft of blonde hair sticking out, fluffy and a little black from Dummy's worried claw. Tony settled himself with a clean mug and hot, black-as-his-soul coffee on one end, dislodging Steve's head long enough to resettle it on his thigh, while Loki snuggled up to the soldier's feet and ate slowly out of the box, eyes still heavy with sleep. Tony just took a sip and smiled as blue eyes stared up at him, confused.

"Good morning, sexy."

"...Who are you, and what have you done with Tony Stark?"

"He showered for_ two_ hours..." Loki groaned, face resting against the couch as he blearily chewed on a bear claw. "I don't even take a whole one to clean myself up after a bloody _battle_."

"Hey, automotive grease is some nasty stuff."

"You sang the entire AC/DC playlist. Off-key."

"...Not all of us have Clint's fabulous baritone, okay?"

"...He does have a fantastic voice."

"I know, I actually like jazz when he sings."

"...Okay, I'm not caffeinated enough to listen to you two. Hand over the coffee." Tony just laughed and gave Steve his own mug, smiling when Dummy brought him another.

"Good boy...need help sitting up, Cap?" He replied, one hand rubbing Dummy's frame as the other stroked through Steve's hair. He didn't know when the whole touchy thingy started, but he friggin' had to pet everyone now. Bruce, Steve, and Dummy were his favorites, though...Loki had, kinda, sorta let him do it. But only while they picked up donuts; he said he wouldn't have his hair sullied by such disgusting chemicals before they left the Tower. Pansy. Steve just snorted and rolled upright, hair standing up on end, and huge pile of blankets ringing him, Loki immediately snuggled up to his shoulder.

"So, when did it become morning?" Tony chuckled warmly and gave him another pet as Loki yawned.

"About three hours ago. Reindeer Games over there didn't want to get up..."

"You yanked my blankets off and tried to drag me off the bed by my ankles."

"You kicked me in the face! And yelled at me!"

"You deserved it." Tony pouted, brown eyes dancing as Steve looked even more confused.

"...Will someone please tell me what is going on?" Loki yawned again and pulled his long braid over his shoulder, one hand playing with the ends.

"Stark and I got up early, went out for breakfast, bickered constantly, and came down here to wake you up."

"With donuts and coffee?"

"Right-o. We thought you might need a pick-me-up after the last few days." Steve smiled, just a little, and nodded, taking a long drink and snagging a pastry for himself.

"Thanks..." As he did so, Tony's back snuggled up to his other arm, and the soldier blinked, staring from one man to the other. "Is...this...?"

"Yes, now relax." Loki murmured, one long arm stretching over Steve's shoulders to start stroking through Tony's hair, his face firmly pressed into the soldier's neck. "Stark..."

"I heard you at the bakery. Jarvis, bring up the American Pickers marathon. And follow it with a little CSI: New York. I'm feeling the Gary Sinise vibes today."

"Of course, sir." Above them, Clint grinned a little and snuck back along the vents, video camera in hand. He was sure he could get new arrows from Stark out of this...

...

The Chitauri skittered out of the way, heads and eyes down as the Great Lord stalked among them, growling furiously. The Advisor had met his fate far too quickly for Thanos's liking; Loki's magery had blasted the unfortunate creature into the nebula beyond, and left the dark lord with a smoking, sliced up hand. He stalked the halls of dark stone now, rage thick as a cloak about him, and snarled a little as a creature, facial skin as red as a dying star, smirked down at him from his perch on a scarred spire.

"You are...aware that the Captain will not give up what he cherishes so easily." Black eyes stared at the Red Skull, narrowed at the subtle insolence.

"What he does or does not do does not matter; I will get Loki back, for through him, we shall defeat the Aesir..."

"So you say." This new voice was imperious and petty, and Victor Doom, all metallic steel, stepped briskly into the hall. "We don't even know if this Loki will be able to be subdued as before; I know Tony Stark, and anything he gets his greasy paws on, he doesn't let go." Thanos rumbled angrily, but held back his wrath; he'd allied himself with these...mortals, only because he had no knowledge of the humans...and these two did. Well, there was one other...but he didn't care to share that card just yet...no. Not yet.

"Then perhaps you both could help in wrenching those two from him, since they seem so...close." He rumbled out a laugh as they both grimaced, and turned away, his eerie smile humorless. "This plan...let us ponder on it further..."

...

A few days later marked the first time they went into battle with Loki, and Steve was absolutely a wreck. Not because he was worried sick that either of his loves was going to hurt; no, no, he was more concerned with the fact that half of Manhattan was covered with the slimy goo that Nemor's giant pet squid expelled after defeating it. And that Iron Man and the God of Mischief were currently tobogganing down Park Avenue, both on the hood of a semi truck, tossed by the Hulk.

He rubbed a weary, slimy hand over his face, hood long since discarded, and tried to anticipate the latest Fox News headline. _Slime Time for the Avengers? Stark Goo-po? Lovely. Fury's going to ream me. Again._

"Captain." Coulson didn't look that great himself, his suit rumpled, stained, and a little torn, but he was like the sun rising, and Steve didn't hold back the relief in his voice and a wan smile.

"Phil, thank god, I need a voice of reason to reach them..."

"...Barton just joined them." Natasha's crisp tone made them both wince, and she smiled, just a little, stalking up to them.

"Romanoff, tell me that you didn't encourage this."

"...Phil, you've always asked me to be truthful." Coulson groaned a little and turned back to the other agents, while Steve gave her a pout.

"Why are they doing this?"

"Well, I would assume it's because they find it fun. I'm rather tempted myself."

"And what happens when the news gets ahold of this?" Natasha snorted softly.

"We send Tony out to the talk show circuits, sit back, and reap the rewards of being the most screwed-up group of superheroes on the planet. And if all else fails, we use Loki, because while being an ass, the man does have a wicked sense of humor, and he knows better how to operate in the human world than Thor does."

"...You've already planned this out, haven't you." She chuckled and clucked him under the chin, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

"You're cute when you admit defeat." As he wrinkled his nose at the notion of being 'cute', Widow slipped away, and a few hours later, Steve finally managed to drag everyone back to the Tower, under threat of a family meeting and health food. There was a lot of bitching, griping, and wailing, and a few glares, but nonetheless, they all made it home.

After using up every ounce of hot water in the Tower, they all plopped down in the living room, sprawling over the large couches, and Tony started up a steady round of old cult movies. Somewhere in the gooey chaos, the genius had found a swamped pizzeria whose ovens were still intact, and had ordered a whole brace of pies; they arrived, hot and fresh and amazing, and they all dug in.

Loki had spooned himself into Steve's back, while Tony leaned into his shoulder; Natasha and Bruce were snuggled in an armchair, and Clint was perched on the back of Thor's sofa, braiding his long golden hair. Coulson had slipped in with the second movie, and was relaxed next to Thor, head tipped back and eyes closed, suit jacket unbuttoned. Steve smiled as he looked over his team, and leaned back, wrapping one arm around Tony's waist, and the other looped over Loki's legs, a little nervously. Tony just snuggled closer, and Loki's fingers stroked his neck, caressing up into his hair, and he closed his eyes, faint relief easing the lines on his face.

It was good to be home.

...

Bruce woke to the soft sounds of a thunderstorm outside, Natasha snuggled, bright-eyed, into his chest. He smiled down at her, motioned towards the slumped forms of all the others, Clint laying across Thor and Phil's laps, with Loki and Tony snuggled up to Steve. She nodded and they slipped away, silently making their way to their room, where Tasha laid out her yoga mat, and Bruce seated himself in the lotus position. It was a bit of a habit of theirs; Bruce would drop into a trance that any Yogi would admire, while Natasha limbered herself in the air, keeping every muscle strong and ever-ready.

"They're like having children." The scientist chuckled, his hands folding neatly over his knees, a deep, almost silent hum filling his chest. The spy responded with a tender smile, lunging slowly.

"Are we the parents, then?" Bruce hummed out a soft laugh.

"I don't see why not...we're certainly the only sane ones around at times..."

"Oh, Steve is sane...just badgered. The others, though..." She trailed off as she levered herself up on her arms, stretching out her legs as Bruce began to count between 'oms'

"Let's see...there's Thor, the Golden Retriever, Loki, bag of cats, scent of crazy...Tony, our resident mad engineer..."

"And Barton, the insolent bastard."

"Aw, he's cute though." She did have to concede to that, and settled neatly back on the ground, perfectly on pointe before pulling her leg back up towards her shoulder.

"He is...not as sweet as you, though." That earned her a genuine smile, and she hummed back at him, switching legs. "I care about him, but as for a relationship..."

"Better left as partners."

"Precisely. Bruce, you always have appealed to my sense of expediency."

"A habit of a good doctor, nothing more."

"A habit I hold in high regard. So...who ordered the mushrooms?" She was so prone to changing subjects that Bruce just followed along, smiling softly, merry brown eyes watching her fold herself up. A year, they'd been together...a long, beautiful year of discovery and change, in both of them. Tasha was warmer, kinder, and Bruce was...Bruce was happy with her. After that initial change, she and the Hulk had made up, and, well...the rest had grown from there.

"Tony. I kinda liked them..."

"Well, do me a favor and get one that's half free of them."

"Allergic?"

"No, just not fond of the slimy quality."

"Mmm...as long as my half doesn't have anchovies."

"Deal." She sealed it with an upside-down kiss, he with a soft touch of her cheek, and they carried on with their nightly routine, content to simply be together.

**Hrmn...a little less this time around, but new chapter! So, I have a thing for BrucexTasha now. I still love Science Bros, but...Bruce feels. Tasha feels. DAMMIT. Story's picking back up; I'm sorry there's been so few battle scenes; that will be fixed this next chapter! Also, ANGST.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Title: The Winter Soldier**  
**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**  
**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I simply lust after Loki's costume.**  
**Pairings: FrostSoldier, IronSoldier, FrostIron, FrostIronSoldier, PhilxClint, NatashaxBruce**  
**Warnings: Angst, pain, loss, and violence. And swearing. Lots and lots of swearing.**  
**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**  
**Summary: Steve's an easy going guy, for the most part, even at his most spangly and serious. Even against his most hated enemy. Until, that is, he sees a face from the past that he knows, without a doubt, should have remained there…and someone fucks with Tony and Loki.**  
**The Winter Soldier**

As the months passed by, the second and third battles they'd fought with Loki by their side, the Avengers had realized just how important the mage really was. He shielded Natasha and Steve from falling debris, helped Thor summon ever more lightning to blast away the Doombots and vicious little monsters summoned from who-the-hell-knows-where, and when Clint found a spot to perch just out of even his reach, he levitated the archer just enough to get him in place. He also boosted their com units between Coulson and SHIELD, and that was no small thing; before, the few dead spots could cripple any of the team, and now, even the Hulk could hear the orders and coordinates Steve and Clint passed out.

By the fourth battle, this time against a group of the Brotherhood, with the X-Men on the way, it was a mark of how much they trusted him that no one 'kept an eye' on Loki, didn't even worry about his whereabouts. He was a mage, after all; he flitted from one place to another, healing agents and civilians, shielding innocents, easing the wind, the rain, anything to help make their job that much easier; and not once, the entire time, had he even given a hint of doing something that might harm others. Not even in jest.

And it was a mark of how much he'd fitted himself into their lives when no one noticed his cool voice absent for three minutes before Tony made a filthy joke directed at the trickster god…and only radio silence prevailed. The thirty seconds or so that followed that realization felt like the longest in Steve's life, and that was saying something.  
"Loki, position!" Steve's voice held a tinge of faint hysteria, echoed by Tony's soft swearing as Iron Man rose higher above the city, Jarvis already scanning the streets for the particular brand of magic that both was, and was used by the mage. Nothing at all, and Tony swore again.

"God-fucking-dammit, Steve, he's nowhere in range of the scanners. Coulson?"  
"Nothing here, he's not with the support crew. Barton, give me his last coordinates." The agent replied calmly, though…there was an edge of anger there, something that Steve was surprised to hear, and Clint reacted to it, his own voice tense.

"Sir, last I saw, he was under that bonsai-d mulberry on East Fortieth, trying to shield the storefronts. I thought he'd be fine, so I watched Nat…"

"We all did. Captain?"

"On it." Steve took off in a fierce run, leaping and twisting over the wreckage of the dozens of vehicles littering the streets, every nerve in his body on fire. High above, but now at the level of the third and fourth floors, Tony flew warily, watching over Steve and constantly scanning. He opened up a private line to Steve, brow furrowing at how labored Cap's breathing was.

"Steve, we'll find him."

"I know, I know, I just…" And Tony felt his reactor spin sickeningly. He knew why Steve was so upset…he hissed out a sigh.

"Babe, calm down. Loki's not…"

"Not dead, not gone, not missing? We don't know that, Tony, we just fucking don't. I can't…I can't lose anyone else. I can't." And wasn't that just a kicker? Tony shivered in the suit and came down enough for Steve to hear the whine of the repulsors, but nothing else. Clearly, Captain America was not in a conversational mood, and Tony…Tony really couldn't fault him.

"I know."

* * *

_Two weeks earlier_

Loki hummed softly as he puttered around the kitchen, dressed down in soft green plaid and a stolen AC/DC shirt from Tony, one of the ones full of welding holes. He always had loved to cook, and with the long months at the cabin, he'd learned much of Midgard's fare, and intended to make a full dinner for the other residents of the Tower, and their guests. It was the weekly poker night, sponsored by Gambit and Tony jointly, and it wasn't uncommon for members of the X-men and Johnny Storm to stop by, as well as a shy, sweet Spiderman. And just as usually, everyone brought snacks until there was nothing but junk food and grease.

Steve had put a stop to that, intending to get the whole group to eat properly, so Loki had taken all of that into consideration, making homemade pizza with a wheat crust and healthy toppings, corn flour nachos with black beans instead of refried, and a whole host of finger foods that were both good to eat, and good for the body. The one sole concession to the sweet tooth in everyone were the soft cookies he was now pulling out of the oven, perfectly round and pale. He smiled a little and settled them on the rack before starting fresh on the next cookie sheet, rolling little drops of dough.

"…Hey there, tall, dark, and dignified. Enjoying yourself?" Loki glanced over his shoulder at Tony's voice and grinned, licking his lips; both he and Steve were sweaty and clearly fresh from the gym, and Loki felt, more than heard, a pleased noise escape his throat. Tony just smirked wickedly, pushing Steve into the room. "Take that as a yes…" He murmured, stealing up to the god and catching his hand to lick the ball of dough from his fingertips, eliciting a gasp from Loki and a low rumble from Steve.

"Tony…"

"Brother, what a feast!" All three of them stifled a groan as Thor came in, clad, as usual, in nothing but his birthday suit, and with a sigh, Loki tossed a towel at him.

"It well could have been, you dolt! Now dress yourself, these are not your personal quarters!" He snapped out, fighting to keep a blush from his cheeks as Tony waggled his eyebrows and poor Steve tried so hard not to laugh. Thor just looked happy, but confused, and Loki settled back to his baking, content to let Tony steal tidbits behind him, the smaller man leaning into his back while Steve stood steadfast against the counter next to him. A feast, indeed…he smiled secretly, green eyes soft as he worked, content for the first time in…well…decades. Millenia. Ages…

* * *

By the time they made it to the mulberry tree, Steve was twitchy and angry, and that never boded well for bad guys, Tony had learned. So Iron Man landed, and started checking the alleyways, the street fronts that were still busted in, any place an unconscious mage might have dragged himself. Because Loki's instructions had been very specific, and very, very precise should he ever black out from an overuse of magic. Look in every dark corner, every safe place, even every unsafe place, for a huddled figure. So far, though, nothing, nada, zip…and that cold feeling filled his veins, made him tremble even in the suit.

"Steve…"

"There." There was a chilling finality in the Captain's voice…because that? That wasn't Steve, his warm, loving, incredible Steve Rogers. That was the Captain, the man out of time, out of ice, out of a war. And Tony slowly turned, aware of a gathering darkness, of dark, dangerous clouds roiling thick and frightening overhead as a tall figure, just as buff and strong as Cap, stood over the kneeling, drooping figure of Loki. The man shifted and his face came into the fading light, and Tony's eyes widened as Steve took him in like a body blow.

"B-B…Bucky?"

* * *

Bruce had returned from the Hulk and was helping treat some of the injured agents, clad only in a rescued pair of pants and an undershirt when Natasha came limping up, looking far worse for the wear than usual, Clint grim-faced behind her. He looked startled, then worried, and Barton's first words sent a chill down his spine.

"Cap and Iron Man are both off radio, and we can't contact them."

"Thor?"

"Being blocked by the sudden storm that's blown up."

"Coulson?"

"Half out of his mind with worry. Look…shit's going down, and we can't get there fast enough." Natasha muttered something dangerous in Russian, and Clint rubbed his face with a sigh. "Yeah, I know, I know…Bruce? Can you…I dunno, let the Hulk out long enough to get us downtown? Tasha isn't going to sit still, and I'm still on a short leash…"

"Done." Bruce's calm brown eyes faded into blazing green and he grew and grew, shedding the shirt quickly and sighing in resignation as his uniform pants shredded through the khakis he'd hunted down, and then…the Hulk was in his place, offering an enormous hand for Natasha to settle in, and his arm for Clint to jump up on.

Both agents took to his shoulders, holding onto his hair tightly as the great being began to run, leaping cars, busses, and even sections of the roadway that had heaved up with ease.

"Bad things happening." Came the guttural voice, and Clint's lips curved up in a humorless smile.

"Yeah, Jolly Green, they are. And it's our job to stop them." That earned him a bloodthirsty and bloody smile from Natasha, two teeth already knocked out by a hit from a 'bot, and a roar of assent from the Hulk…and Hawkeye turned his gaze forward, sniper's stare blanking out everything else. Ahead of them, two men stood, two knelt…and a whole lot of trouble was heading their way.

* * *

Steve had fallen to his knees, and Tony was on full alert, bristling with weapons as the man's silvery prosthesis swung out, still holding a machine gun, a big red star on the upper tricep. This was James Barnes, Steve's Bucky…Steve's best friend, his fallen hero…and this was also someone that Tony had been watching for, had been almost anticipating, ever since Natasha's undercover gig at Stark Industries. Because Natasha and this guy? They had history; history that was steeped in more bloodshed than even Tony's legacy.

Natasha had spilled the beans one night, drunker than anyone, save Clint, had ever seen her, and melancholy in a way that usually didn't bode well for anyone. But she'd told them everything, everything that she had known, everything she'd believed…everything that had been done to her. They all had; Steve's illness and the pain of the serum, Clint's shitty, shitty childhood and the realization that being an unlettered circus freak wasn't gonna get him bread to put on the table…Thor's long years of war, cut off from everything and everyone he loved. And Bruce's transformation, his pain, his hatred for himself and 'The Other Guy'….and then there was Tony. Tony, with all the money in the world and so few friends he could count them on two, maybe three fingers. Now, he thought…now he had a full set, or near enough that he couldn't bear to lose any more.

So, he decided he wasn't going to.

"Give him back, Barnes." Tony's voice…no, Iron Man's voice was harsh and angry, cold and metallic in a way that would make Jarvis proud…The Winter Soldier simply shrugged.

"Which one?" His accent, once Brooklyn, now Slavic, warred with Tony's senses, and the jerking that was Steve's shoulders made the words even more surreal; he knew that voice, after all, but it was so…different.  
"Both of them. Cap's not a plaything, and neither is Loki."

"Not my problem, Man of Iron. I need the mage…and I was promised the soldier. You would be wise to leave."

"Uh huh, not fucking happening. Captain, a little acknowledgement here?" But Steve was locked in his memories, in his grief, and only hunched down further, soft apologies spilling from his lips, and Loki…Loki was dazed, his green eyes cloudy with pain as he huddled at Barnes' feet. He was hurting, but from what, Tony had no clue…and then, a familiar pounding footstep sounded not far behind him, and Tony let a dangerous grin settle in his voice and over his face. "Y'know, you're about to meet the other three members of the team; the ones no one likes to fuck with, because then their bodies disappear in the dead of night. Or day. They're not picky."

An arrow pierced the concrete at Barnes' feet, and lunging forward, Tony grabbed Steve and Loki both, and with a roar that was half human, half repulsor, threw himself into the air away from the EMP tip, which, true to Clint's form, exploded the moment they were out of range, and tossing the Soldier back a few dozen yards. A breathing space, but one sorely needed, and Thor managed at last to swing out of the clouds and scoop up his brother, eyes worried sick.

Clint sent another arrow towards Barnes, and Natasha eased herself down, one hand holding her side now as she narrowed her eyes, watching the man before them slowly pick himself up from the second blast. The Hulk, however, busied himself with picking up Steve, and it was Tony who put up his faceplate and tried to talk Cap down, tried to break the loop.

"Steve, Steve, c'mon, baby, gotta snap out of this, okay? He's not the same friend you knew, not the same guy you loved. He's…he's changed, he's been recreated into something, like Natasha was-"

"Lev?" It was Natasha's voice that startled them, lost and a little…frightened; two things that set the Avengers immediately on edge. And it was Barnes who replied, smiling thinly at her.

"Natalia. So good to see you again."

**Not my best work, but it's a little rushed. Creative input, maybe? I could use a little of that. Edit: Cleaned up this chapter, and fixed the annoying line breaks. Hope this passes muster!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or Marvel. I just play in their sandbox.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier, IronSoldier, FrostIron, FrostIronSoldier, PhilxClint, NatashaxBruce**

**Warnings: Canon violence, swearing, past traumas, and some serious feels. There may be some triggers in here, so please, read with caution. **

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Summary: Shit's goin' down, folks.**

**The Winter Soldier**

Clint was the first to react, yanking Natasha back and swearing as he nocked an arrow, sending it straight between the Soldier's eyes...only Barnes wasn't standing there any more. He moved fast, brutally so, an equal to Steve any day of the week, and Tony snarled behind his face plate, firing repulsor blast after blast after him, giving the Hulk and Thor time enough to get their comrades out of the line of fire. Barnes was all over the goddamn street, almost taunting them with his own shots, piss-poor as they were aimed, clearly still trying to settle the score and take Steve and Loki.

"Goddammit, motherfucker, hold your ass still so I can fucking shoot it!" Clint roared, flipping up on top of a fallen bus to get a better vantage point, face set in a mask of rage. Tony stayed well out of range of the EMP tips and his sonic arrows; when Clint got like this, all control gone, he was just as liable to shoot an ally as an enemy. Of the people in all their lives, only Natasha and Phil could calm him down, or even come near him. And so Tony didn't notice the shadow behind Clint, a little taller and a whole lot uglier, until a rough voice, almost twin to the one shouting, spoke up over the turmoil.

"Really, baby bro, that's the best ya could come up with?" Clint whirled in a move that later on Tony would toast to, nocking an arrow and firing before the engineer could blink...only to stumble back, face white and eyes wide, as he took in the man before him. Tony's connection to Jarvis gave him an instant identification, and he felt his reactor twist. Trickshot, also known as Barney Barton...Clint's older brother. The one that was supposed to have...

"They told me you were fucking dead!" Trickshot grinned darkly, and something...terrified flashed across Clint's face, enough that Tony nearly abandoned his shots at Barnes. That distraction was enough for the Soldier, though, and before he could react, Iron Man was thrown into the side of a building, and Clint could do little more than watch in horror as the whole damn thing came down on top of him.

* * *

Steve's head came up as the buildings behind them shuddered, his glassy blue eyes trying to focus on the distant battle, and he fought a little in the Hulk's grip, trying to reach for the shield slung over Thor's back.

"Hey...hey...guys..."

"Be still, Captain, we've much to do yet, and you are hurt..." Steve shook his head, forcing the screaming guilt and fear and rage back, slowly, but surely, his eyes clearing at last.

"Thor, I need my shield."

"You mustn't go back, Captain. The Man of Iron and Hawk's Eye are capable of fighting one man."

"He's not a man anymore, Thor. He's a creation, a bitter remnant of the past. And..."

"He is not alone." That last came from Loki, his voice weak and tired, green eyes closed. The mage shifted in his brother's arms enough that Thor finally had to stop, and the Hulk followed, still cradling a silent, shaken Natasha and gripping Steve like a teddy bear. "He...has allies...our enemies...all our enemies..." He whispered, reaching for Steve. The Captain caught his hand and kissed it gently, easing out of the Hulk's grasp enough to gather Loki close.

"Who? Loki, can you tell us who?" A shaky breath was his answer, and slowly, Loki nodded.

"A man named Hammer, and another, the Mandarin...General Ross..." That brought a dangerous rumble from the Hulk, green eyes narrowed, and Loki shook, continuing only by Thor's gentle coaxing. "...Barnes, and the Red Skull..." Suddenly, those eyes widened, and Loki snarled, his whole body trembling still. "Amara, show yourself!" He hissed out, hands clenching into fists as he pushed away from both his brother and lover. Steve made to hold him again, but Loki brought up a shield, shaking his head.

"No, Steven, you mustn't come near. She is a wily sorceress, and powerful; and she delights in using others to bend to her will."

"That's quite rich, Lord Loki, coming from _you_." A whirl of energies spun into existence before the mage, and a curvy, gorgeous blonde woman stepped out, her dress slit up the sides to the tops of both thighs, and her corset barely holding in a voluminous bust. She was beautiful, but in a way that was colder and more dangerous than Natasha ever was. Steve shivered; her eyes were dead, dead and as chill as the Arctic ice, and he realized one thing. This woman would stop at nothing to claim what she believed was hers...and Loki was the target. The mage only sniffed, however, and shrugged his shoulders, clearly uninterested.

"I've never claimed a need to use my power to attract, Amara; that, my dear, has always been your specialty...though why you would claim it as such when you so often fail utterly bewilders me." He winced a little at that; even verbally, Loki didn't pull punches, and the barb caught hold, her cold blue eyes narrowing even as a cruel smile touched her lips.

"You say that, Lord Loki, and yet, where are your fellows? Where are your Chitauri, your Jotuun? Where is your army, my Lord?" At that, Loki smirked, eyes dancing, and he tossed his braid with a short laugh.

"I have a Hulk."

* * *

_It's dark in here._

"...sir..."

_It's so dark, Yinsen._

"...Sir..."

_Why is it so dark?_

"SIR!" Tony came awake with a startled scream, jerking his head as Jarvis's voice filled the HUD.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jarv, I'm awake, I'm awake!"

"Sir, you were unconscious for four minutes and fifty two seconds, and given the current circumstances, that is _not_ a good figure!"

"...I'm under a building again, aren't I?"

"...Miss Potts is threatening to return to the 'break it, you buy it' philosophy." Tony groaned and let his head fall back with a thump.

"Ah, fuck. Alright, give me a full rundown."

"...everything seems to be operational, sir, and the reactor has held up well under the strain."

"Thank fucking Loki. Okay, alright, would it be stupid to do the chest beam to get out?"

"...Yes, sir."

"...Alright, nix that idea. How about blasting small openings, gradually working my way to the surface?"

"That seems amenable, sir."

"Excellent, keep an eye on the vitals. How's the rest of the team?"

"...I am not sure. I cannot access the cameras available in the battle area."

"...someone's blocking you?"

"...Two someones. And neither of them friends of yours, sir."

"Well, fuck me sideways. Alright, Jarv; let's do this." He carefully shifted his wrist and foot repulsors, and started the slow, agonizing work of carving out space for his body to move, all the time watching for a break in the firewall preventing him from seeing or hearing his team. He had a suspicion who was behind it...and his blood chilled a little at the thought of the Mandarin getting his freaky claws into his makeshift, broken little family.

_Not fucking happening. Not ever again._

* * *

Clint ran between the cars as Barnes and Barney tracked him, lungs burning from all the smoke and spilled chemicals. But the fear was too strong, and he vaulted a smashed up Beamer, shaking like a little kid inside.

_Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck...How the fuck did he survive? He was in that goddamn prison for ten years, in max security. At goddamn _Leavenworth_! How...how? _His mind ran in circles, chasing itself even as he was being chased, arrows spent and long behind him as he wove his way through the city streets, desperate now for even a glimpse of SHIELD's agents. _Fuck, he looks like Dad...too fucking much like Dad..._That made his heart seize a little, and he stumbled over the body of a fallen cop, his gorge rising before he could stop it. He managed to push past the nausea and set to running again, but a quick glance back showed that they were a hell of a lot closer now, and he just didn't have the strength in him for one last burst...

When out of the shadowy alley ahead, Phil Coulson tore out, and Clint dropped flat onto his stomach as the senior agent's Glock barked out ten perfect shots...and Barney's howl of pain and rage had him scrambling back up to catch his handler's arm. Barnes had backed off as Barney writhed from the shots through both kneecaps (lower, in fact, than where Clint had been shot himself by Coulson, except he was pretty sure that his older brother wasn't going to be getting an invite to join SHIELD), and was watching them all through a clinical eye. He raised his left hand, the metal one, in a cynical half-salute and vanished into the growing smoke, leaving the agents to swarm over the scene and Clint to sag against Phil's side, his legs rubbery and his lungs still heaving.

"Clint..." The archer almost cried at that gentle voice, a warm, calloused hand stroking his cheek, and he forced himself to think of more than just curling into bed with this incredible man and not leaving for a month.

"Phil, Tony's still buried under a building back on forty-eighth." The hand never moved, but Clint felt his spine straighten, heard his voice calling out orders before he returned to holding his lover up, gentle as always.

"Can you show us?" He took a deep breath, then nodded.

"Y-yeah...let me ride with you? I'm about burnt out..." Phil only nodded and gestured to the van, and Clint sank into the hard leather seat, just happy to rest for a precious few minutes...when he realized that his com unit was totally silent. And had been, the whole time after Tony's premature burial. He glanced wide-eyed at Phil, who nodded, the lines on his face deepening in worry. "Oh fuck..."

"We've been locked out."

* * *

Steve's eyes widened as Amara screamed in unholy rage and struck at Loki, all fire and searing winds...and the once-Prince turned those winds and flames back on her, power shimmering across the surface of his shields, eyes almost bright with anticipation. Thor eased the four of them back, eyes worried but trusting.

"He has gained a great deal of power..." Steve blinked, remembering a night long ago, a little after Christmas...

"He gained it from here...from what had been left on Earth."

"Aye, that is his greatest of gifts...he has never failed to defeat her, if only for that reason; he embraces what he is, she...she does not. She seeks more, and more, and more...Loki has ever been at peace with his magic; that was, perhaps, one of the few things he was at peace with for a long time. And now...now, even hurt and tired, she cannot defeat him, for he can simply outlast her...and she knows that." Thor's voice was soft as he watched them duel, but there was pride and love in that great face, and a deep respect for the mage before them. Whatever else had happened in the long months they had stayed up in the wilderness, Steve was thankful it had wrought a new bond between the brothers, grateful it had healed the rift...and happy to see them both laughing and joking with one another.

His smile froze as he remembered two other boys, seventy-plus years before, and the changes that had been wrought upon them..._Oh, Bucky...what happened to you?_ He sighed and finally pulled his shield down, hefting it with ease and taking a little comfort in the strength behind it, the soft hum that always calmed him, even in the worst times. He thumbed his comm unit, wondering if the frequency had changed again.

"Iron Man, Hawkeye, Coulson." Nothing, so he switched to the broader, slightly more public frequency.

"Iron Man, Hawkeye, Coulson." Nothing again...dread pooled in his stomach as he switched it to standard AM radio, putting a little more steel in his voice to show that he wasn't joking, and he wanted status updates. Now.

"Iron Man, Hawkeye, Coulson!" Still nothing, and he began flickering through the frequencies, names replacing their call signs.

"Tony, Clint, Phil! Tony, Clint, Phil!" His breath came a little ragged as the fear tightened in his chest, and he resisted the urge to toss the damned earpiece to the ground, knowing how stupid and futile the gesture would be. Thor was too busy watching the battle before them, while Bruce had returned to his normal form and was checking over Natasha, talking to her in tones almost too low for his own hearing to catch, and he realized that no one knew where the rest of their team was...no one could even hear him. "Fuck! Tony, Clint, Phil, report in!" He bit back the urge to scream as only silence filled the waves, and shivered, shifting a little further away from the group, trying again and again, and walking still further away until the sounds of eldritch creatures screaming and fighting faded away and he was utterly, completely alone...

And Bucky walked out of the shadows before him, machine gun trained right on Steve's exposed forehead.

"Fancy meetin' you here, Big Blue." Anger and deep-seated pain uncoiled within him, and Steve gave him a smile that was all teeth.

"Pleasure's mine, Fly Boy."

**Woo. Holy crabcakes, this chapter was rough to write. Fifteen's getting started in a few, and will flash between the villains a little more...hope this isn't too bad?**


	15. Chapter 15

**Title: The Winter Soldier**

**Author: Ash Gray Kitsune**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or Marvel. I just play in their sandbox.**

**Pairings: FrostSoldier, IronSoldier, FrostIron, FrostIronSoldier, PhilxClint, NatashaxBruce**

**Warnings: Canon violence, swearing, past traumas, and some serious feels. There may be some triggers in here, so please, read with caution.**

**Author's Note: Review and I'll write more~!**

**Summary: Steve's pissed, Clint's freaked, Tony's livid, and Loki just wants a nap. Or, where Spidey saves the day.**

**The Winter Soldier**

Weekdays, Tony thought, really ought to just be all turned into some variant of a Saturday or Sunday, and really, should just stop existing. But noooooo, here he was on a Wednesday afternoon, digging his titanium ass out of a pile of rubble, feeling like, oh, yeah, a goddamn _building_ had dropped on his fucking head. _Goddamn jackass Winter Soldier...Hope he's gotten his metallic ass blown up or some shit, because god-fucking-dammit, rebar and granite are _not_ suitable for cushioning bad landings. _He winced as his side burned; some of the armor had bent in a little too far, and scraped his skin open. But no broken ribs; that was just a fucking bitch and a half, especially around the reactor and the cylinder that held it in place.

Nope, he did not want a collapsing chest cavity, thank you _very_ much. So he dug and dug some more, grateful at least for the steady flow of oxygen and super thankful for the self-cleaning filters on his suit.

"Jarvis, what's the earliest we'll get out of this crap?"

"In roughly thirteen point seven minutes, sir, at the rate you are going."

"Oh thank fucking god. Okay, any luck with breaching the fire wall?"

"No sir, but I can reasonably assume that the culprits are in the same area as yourself, as I can access any other camera in the city, and communicate with Director Fury, though I cannot seem to get the communication units working for you or the other Avengers."

"...Mmkay, that kinda makes sense, since I integrated a wireless antenna into the suit to keep contact with you. Alright, awesome, send a message through to him for me."

"Of course, sir."

"Avengers scattered, digging out of fallen building, trying to determine location of hackers. Please advise."

"...He sends back 'Keep low, keep safe, and do not take on hackers alone.'"

"Well, that's just comforting. I'm in no shape to be a daredevil anyway today, so tell him I'm just going to try to find Cap and Coulson."

"Done, sir. He agrees, and says that he will assure Miss Potts that you're alright." Tony let out a sigh of relief and nodded, knowing his AI would 'see' the gesture.

"Tell him the scotch Dad saved from WWII is still in the safe, and he's welcome to it." He laughed at the amused noise Jarvis made in return and finally managed to repulsor his way out of the granite, breathing in deep. "Alright, Jarvis; can you still patch in to the radio frequencies?"

"I shall do my best, sir." Tony just smiled and slowly took to the air, rising enough that he couldn't be grabbed as he scanned the horizon.

"That's all I've ever asked, Jarv. All I've ever asked."

* * *

Either Clint's memory was faulty, or the shock had clean erased the location from his brain, because the archer couldn't for the life of him remember where Tony had been buried. After a terse half hour of looking, he gave up when he couldn't find hide nor hair of the engineer, and slumped against the van, black depression settling over him far more easily than it should have...and then the warm weight of a familiar hand stroked his neck, and he fought not to break away.

"Clint."

"Just don't, Coulson." He ached at the way Phil froze at that, but plowed on anyway, the hurt and fear spilling out of him in equal measures. "Just...don't tell me this wasn't my fault, when it goddamn well was, when Tony could be dead or dying or broken inside his suit and we'll _never fucking know_ because I can't fucking remember where the hell he fell. Because my goddamn brother looks way too fucking much like my jackass of an old man who beat the shit out of us and our mother just because we looked the wrong way or said the wrong thing and mmmph-?!" He very nearly punched his boyfriend, but Phil was a hell of a lot stronger than he looked and catching Clint's hands was child's play for him.

But those strong hands didn't bind him, just tangled their fingers together and drew him close, kissing him like there was no tomorrow, and as Clint's body relaxed in degrees, he idly wondered if maybe this the time it really would be true...if maybe there wasn't a tomorrow, and he was just existing this one day...Then the kiss broke and the punch that followed knocked the depression right out the window, leaving only pissy anger in its wake.

"What the fuck was that for?!"

"_That_ was for treating me like you did. The kiss was because I don't believe it was your fault, dammit. Now _think_, Clint, and stop letting what happened long ago get in the way of what's happening _now._ When we get done with this, when we get home, then yes, we'll talk this all out, okay? But right now, _we are on the losing side. _And that will not fly with the Director. Or Hill. So get your head on straight, just for now, and grab the spare quivers in the van; we're on foot from here, and I want you armed and alert." Clint stared at him for a long, long moment, before a soft huff of laughter escaped him and he rubbed his face, scrubbing away the stinging tears that had threatened to fall.

"Yeah...yeah, you're right, Phil. Um...I...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." Phil stopped him with a second kiss, this one sweeter and gentler, and hugged him for a long moment.

"I know. I know. Ready to hit the streets?" Clint smiled lopsidedly and shouldered his quivers, comforted by the weight of two hundred-plus, lightweight arrows designed by a certain Stark.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am."

* * *

Steve probably should have waited for Thor. In fact, he probably should have just retreated, drawing Bucky in long enough to get Loki's attention and fry him. Or wait for Tony and Clint, and let them play dodge and bait while he took the Soldier down.

Steve Rogers, however, wasn't in the mood for any of those things.

He swung his shield like like a blade, not even truly aiming for vital areas, just looking to cause as much damage as he could while Bucky countered and blocked, his eyes narrowed and inscrutable. His hair was longer and lank, his body a hair thinner than Steve's own, though he suspected that to be more conditioning than any sort of starvation. The irony, at least, wasn't lost on him. But he didn't back down, and neither did Steve, and the two men skirmished in a way that might have almost been medieval, because they were aiming to kill, not capture. No glory would come to the one who survived, and Steve felt his blood heat at the thought of taking down a foe such as the Soldier, and the battle madness that had lurked in his mind for so long finally, agonizingly blossomed.

He attacked with a roar, fist swinging out impossibly fast to catch Bucky's jaw, and the Soldier stumbled back from the blow, eyes widening as Steve kept moving forward, kept swinging and kicking.

"Big Blue..." The shield slammed down too near one of his legs, and Barnes stumbled again, limping now from the debris.

"Steve, c'mon, snap out of it..." His Brooklyn accent slipped back in, though Steve was far too gone to notice it, too far gone to catch sight of the figures approaching in the distance. No, his face held an unholy light, and had he been a little more aware, he would have seen the stark fear etched in Bucky's features, eyes wide and pupils huge, his whole body freezing up.

"Stevie..." Bucky scrambled back out of reach as Steve swung again, but not far enough, and the edge caught him clean in the stomach, doubling the other man over and flinging him into a battered Volkswagon, the hood and roof caving under his weight and inertia. He lay there, gasping like a fish, as the Captain strode up to him, pistol taken from his side holster and now aimed at his heart. Bucky just laughed weakly. "Gonna kill your best friend, Stevie...probably for the best, though. Can't say 'm gonna fight ya now...ain't got the heart for it." He coughed and spat out blood; it was black-red in the gathering shadows, and he stared at it for a long time, listening as Steve slowly slid the safety off.

"I'm gonna miss ya, Big Blue."

_Bang_.

* * *

The gunshot seemed to echo in the evening light, and Tony startled badly, nearly falling from the skies.

"Jarvis?" The AI hesitated, and Tony waited, for once patient.

"Captain Rogers has shot the Winter Soldier, sir. I have surveillance from a distant security camera." Tony took a shallow breath. Then another.

"Well, fuck. Alright, full speed ahead; we're gonna be doing damage control tonight."

* * *

Amara seemed to have a seated interest in using every ounce of her power to unseat the mage before her, and Loki stifled a sigh as he deflected her attacks with barely a gesture; he had little need for her theatrics. And that was not idle boasting; he was known as the Aesirs' most powerful mage for a reason, after all. He could craft a thread so strong it would never break from little more than dust, could create, destroy, and reform anything he touched, if he so desired, while she was trapped as a petty conjurer whose smoke-and-mirrors was no more deadly to him than a moth or two.

Of course, she could, and was, doing some actual damage to the surroundings, but he was shielding Thor and Bruce and Natasha, and Steve...Steve was not there. He very nearly cursed as he sent out his senses, feeling for that unique signature of his beloved Captain...but what he found was something far more dangerous than the woman before him. With a sharp word barked out and a complicate gesture, he stifled her magic and bound her in the same restraints he himself had worn after the fall of the Chitauri, sagging a little as he turned to his brother.

"Thor, Steven is in danger; go!" The god only paused for a moment, but nodded and took off at a dead run, and Loki staggered over to Bruce and Natasha, one eye on Amara's hateful form. "We must take this one and go; our enemies will not retreat for long, and we dare not be caught like this." Bruce only nodded, his fatigue showing far too much more than normal, and he called on the Hulk once more, though the transition was slower and clearly more painful than usual. But the Hulk only cradled Natasha against one pectoral and carried Amara, nodding for Loki to lead the way, the deep bags under his eyes the only indication that the being wasn't in top form. Loki gave him an equally tired smile, and settled for a light, fast pace that would keep them moving, but not tax them too much...and he hoped against hope that the others would make it there in time.

Because he didn't have the strength to bring Steve back from that edge.

* * *

Tony caught up to Thor with a thankful curse, flying above the blonde as they raced to where Steve was pacing, the fallen form of the Soldier still draped over a wrecked Beetle. He felt his heart plummet as they neared the scene; Steve seemed to be cursing and crying at the same time, waving his pistol around like a madman as his best friend lay dead on a coffin of metal...no, not dead. There were vital signs still in the Soldier, but Steve was too far lost in his own mind to notice, and Barnes was definitely unconscious, enough that any casual observer would see him dead.

"Thor..."

"Aye, Tony. I shall engage the Captain..."

"No. He'll just try to kill you. I'll talk to him." Tony set down on the ground, and with a sigh that only trembled a little, began to discard his suit, piece by piece, much to Thor's horror.

"Tony..."

"He won't hurt me. I'm not armed, or armored; I'm a civilian, and his brain is all but wired not to hurt civies. Just...trust me, okay?" Jarvis was all but yammering in his ear, and with a sigh, he took out his com unit and handed it to Thor, trusting that he wouldn't lose or break it, and finished getting free of the armor. The undersuit was skintight and left his reactor exposed; that, he hoped, would trigger Steve's protective instincts and bring him back down, and if nothing else, he'd shake his ass at the soldier and drag him to a bed somewhere to work off the excess energy. Not elegant, but he had no other idea that would work. So he pushed past the Norse god and strode into the fray, the blue light of his reactor washing over the area...and Steve's head came up, blue eyes lit in a way that Tony did not in the least like.

"Steve." He called softly, still moving forward, and in an instant, he was pinned to the ground, two hundred pounds of American beefcake straddling his waist with a pistol pointing at his skull. "Steve, baby, come back to me..."

_Zing!_

Tony blinked as the pistol disappeared, and Steve was shaking his hand, frowning fiercely, and he caught sight of a certain Spidey hanging upside down from a flagpole, the pistol now entombed in a ball of webbing that he strung from the base. _Steve's gonna be so mad...but goddamn, good job, kid! _He tried to make his appreciation known in his eyes, and got a salute for his troubles...and then Thor had to tackle Steve. Onto Tony's legs.

"GODDAMMIT, GOLDILOCKS, THAT FUCKIN' HURT."


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel, and please don't hurt me.**

Steve snapped out of the blood-tinged haze immediately after Thor's enormous weight started to crush his torso, and with a grunt that took a hell of a lot more effort than it should have, he heaved the massive Asgardian off of his back...and caught sight of who had been beneath him. Tony was glaring at them both, livid and brown eyes sharp, and Steve felt his stomach twist. _I am so couched for this..._

"You are on the couch for a _month, _Mister."

"Tony..."

"No, nuh-uh, not right now. I've got more important problems...Jarvis, run scans on the Winter Soldier, gimme his vitals, please." Steve's heart chilled at that, and as Tony pulled himself off the ground with a wince and a limp, he watched the engineer turn towards the battered remains of a little cute car...and the bloody body of James Barnes draped over it. Thor must have sensed the sudden change in him, because as his stomach voided itself and he retched up his breakfast, the enormous red cape settled over his shoulders, and a firm, broad hand smoothed over his back.

"Have faith, friend Steven...he lives, and by the powers of Asgard and Midgard, he will continue to do so." Steve's stomach still betrayed him, and he hadn't realized that the rest of his team had begun to arrive until Coulson was calling out orders, Clint bringing over a few dozen bottles of water and forcing Tony to sit down so that he could reassure himself that his favorite poker buddy wasn't dead. Natasha had taken three of the bottles as the Hulk sat down, and helped him drink while Loki curled in on himself, too tired to do more than slump against a slab of concrete that was overturned...and Steve felt sick. This was his team, his people...and he'd let them down. He'd been such a failure...

"Cap." He closed his eyes to Tony's voice, cringing at the irritation in it.

"I'm..."

"Don't. Just...don't. Let's go home. For now...for everything that's happened...let's go home." He watched as Tony and Phil directed the agents, one of Clint's trainees bringing them the Quinjet while Thor helped a newly changed Bruce and the others on board, and Clint himself directing the medical units, getting IVs set up for a man that looked surprisingly like the archer, and for Bucky...He stood, clutching the warm red fabric around him, and felt hot shame crack his frozen heart. His team, at least, weren't the failures he was...Head down, he walked carefully to the Quinjet, not even fighting the gentle grasp that closed around one wrist as he sat down next to Thor.

"I'm sorry..."

...

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon..."

"Hammer, I will wring your neck, so help me..."

"Chill out, man! Look, the two greatest genii in this hemisphere are _totally_ gonna hack Tony's AI. Totally. Just...c'mon, have a little faith in me!" The Mandarin rubbed two fingers across his temple and tried, for a moment, to figure out just how this little runt of a man could ever have thought to rival Tony Stark. At least Stark had a mind vast enough to understand the complexities and beauty of the world around him, not simply what his money could buy. He scrolled through to the firewall again, inwardly impressed by the sheer perfection of it. This was something that not many humans could do; for that matter, not many non-humans, either. For all that designing and implementing weaponry and technology was the family line of business, it was quite clear that where Tony's true talent lay was here, in the incredible micro-world of coding. His AIs, for instance, absolutely enthralled him; they had _will_ and _choice_, something no mere robot could ever hope to achieve. And that he had designed to be as such, and let them learn like an indulgent, if slightly demented father...

Gene shivered at the thought of those creations being weaponized.

"Then hack away; I shall survey the Tower's defense systems." He turned away and settled himself in the lotus position, his own computer hovering in the air from one of his rings, and scanned through what they had been able to break into so far. In terms of actual power, it was pathetic; they could hold off an attack indefinitely, but the main areas of the Tower were all they had available; anything of import was locked in the very heart below them, under the careful eye of JARVIS. And that, Gene realized, was something they hadn't taken into account; the AI was the very image of his creator, and a great deal more ruthless in dealing threats. Of the three strike teams he and Hammer had left the Hammertech factories with, one remained, standing sentry on this floor while the two genii sought a back door into the system...and just as The Mandarin suspected, there wasn't one. Not one that would open to them, at any rate. And Tony...for all his bluster, he was too wise to open it outside of the Tower. Too wise by half.

So, he set to watching instead, letting his mind fall into a half-trance that would keep him aware, and allow him a little rest. For there was a battle ahead...and unlike the nervous, hyper man behind him, Gene Khan had no interest in merely running away. It was time to _fight_.

...

"Everything is going as planned, my Lord." A thin smirk touched Thano's lips, and the newest Advisor fought the urge to cower, standing his ground gamely as he stared at the lord's feet. "The Soldier is captured, but the Captain is breaking...the archer is confused and his focus shattered, and the Iron Man..."

"Will find that his fortress is not his own any longer. Excellent...we shall have the mage, too...especially if our guest would be so kind to come out of the shadows?" He gestured to the tall figure of a woman, and as she stepped into the eldritch light, the Advisor blanched.

"Y-Your Majesty..."

...

"I am so, so sorry."

"Steve, relax, I'm fine. Squishy, but fine."

"But, I..." Tony shot him a look, one that even Steve wasn't willing to go up against, and the super soldier sighed, sitting back in Thor's grip and wishing that what exposed skin he saw on the engineer wasn't black and blue...most of it from the combined weights of both Steve and Thor falling on him. There was an ugly, bloody scrape on his right side, and an even nastier cut on his jaw line, a clean scar to add to the others that marred his handsome body. Steve just hung his head in shame. He'd let go, lost control...and Tony had suffered for it. Worse than that, Loki had been left utterly alone, and all but powerless, with a weakened Natasha and exhausted Hulk carrying the crazed sorceress on the floor behind them, chained down in both Loki's restraints and Mjolnjr resting on her stomach.

The mage himself was passed out next to Tony, head pillowed on the other man's lap as he lay limp in the Quinjet's seats. Bruce was at his feet, absently cradling a comatose Natasha, while Clint's back was all but ramrod straight as he piloted up front, Phil's familiar, easing voice carrying over the headsets and earpieces as he guided the still-shaken archer back to home...when Tony's head came up, and he laid Loki's head on the seat itself, standing up only a little wobbly as his fingers pressed at the com unit in his left ear.

"Repeat that again, Jarvis, over the Quinjet's coms." There was a pause, and then a faint sigh from the AI, and Steve felt his stomach churn again, this time with fear.

"There are intruders within the Tower's main habitat that I cannot pry loose. Your workshop, Doctor Banner's laboratory, and the weapons range between them are all I was able to lock down before there was a very nearly successful attempt at hacking my firewalls. I repeat, I was nearly taken over by an enemy system. All variables indicate that Avengers Tower is no longer safe for you or your comrades, sir."

"Son of a mother-fuckin'-bitch."

"My thoughts exactly, sir."

...

_Loki...Loki, my child..._ The mage stirred in the seat, humming softly at the feel of an invisible hand stroking through his long hair.

"Mother..."


End file.
